


This Ain't 'bout Us

by Bear_Out_Of_Hundred_Acre_Wood



Series: This An't About Us, Stuart and Murdoc 60's AU [1]
Category: Gorillaz
Genre: AU, Abuse of All Types, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - 1960s, Angst, Drug Abuse, Homophobic Charictures, Immaturity, Manipulation, Multi, Mystery, Not okay to be gay (back then), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2019-06-11 01:21:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 25
Words: 55,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15304278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bear_Out_Of_Hundred_Acre_Wood/pseuds/Bear_Out_Of_Hundred_Acre_Wood
Summary: It's the 1960's and Stuart Pot is done. At 15, he knows his life is going to be shit and mundane, failing his exams and one day inheriting his father's fairground. He wants more, so when Murdoc Niccals offers him the opportunity to leave his life behind, the boy is eager to accept. Little did he know, Murdoc isn't the man Stu though he was, and the life he's traded in now seems a whole of a lot better than the one he's got. Lies, murder and abuse cause Stu to think that it's better to be obedient and mistreated, then dead like the others...Warning! There is relations between a 16 year old and a 27 year old! There is also reference of slightly younger ages (Corect me if wrong I think youngest in this is 15)





	1. First Sight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based on something I wrote when I was 16. It's still out there somewhere but I'm pretending it's not. I've always known that I wanted this to be FanFiction (because the original is OC), but it took me forever and a day to choose the right Fanbase for it. For some dimwitted reason, I've only just thought of Gorillaz.  
> I don't really know what to say about this story without Spoilers, and I don't want to play it up and then write around the problem parts, or play it down only for some people to be caught off guard. If this is something you think you would want to read but are worried about the triggers, find my old one (username: WinnieIsNot, different site), just be warned it's not exactly the same and is full of grammar errors. I really do want to pretend I didn't post it so if that fact could just stay in this note section and never be mentioned again, that would be great. 
> 
> If you have any questions or qualms about anything, there is nothing wrong with asking and I will try and give as best an answer as I can (even if that may be to "hold on to your hats, that will be explained later")
> 
> Thank you for reading :) On Tumblr, same username  
> (Oh, P.S. I'm constantly doing minor edits to this, so if you see anything, then just hoot, or if something doesn't follow from chapter to chapter, I may have edited the past chapter(s) so it makes sense)

Stuart Pot was done. He was sick of David and Rachel trying to micromanage his life. “Stuart don’t forget to do your homework.” “Stuart don’t take any more of your medication until after dinner.” “Stu come help me at the fairground tomorrow evening, your Uncle Norm said you can have the day off.” Well, maybe he’s protesting against his homework! Maybe he wants to pass out on pills again! Maybe he doesn’t want to spend time at the STUPID FAIRGROUND!

It wasn’t until after he slammed the front door, kicked over a flower pot, and angrily stormed away to the end of his street that he realised that he may have overreacted a little. But he was sick of it. Stu was 15, he knew how to live his life and his parents just don’t seem to understand that. The lanky boy continued walking, waiting until he reached the main road before digging out his pack of Embassy from his jacket pocket, pulling out one of his cigarettes and lighting it. He had to wait so that the neighbours didn’t see and spill to his mum… again.

Without really acknowledging where his feet were taking him, Stuart found himself on his local high street, walking into the greasy spoon and smashing his cigarette butt into one of the passing ashtrays as he made his way to the cashier.

After ordering a tea (make it strong, with milk) from the pretty brunette behind the till, he slipped into the closest seating booth and stared at the chipping lino on the table before him. Now that he had finally stopped, Stu felt a ping of self-regret. He shouldn’t have yelled at his mother like that. At the very least he should have grabbed his book-bag and used this time to revise, he knew he was going to fail his exams, but that doesn’t mean he wanted to.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his blue fringe. Lately he’s been feeling like total crap about everything. His mum tells him it’s just a phase and he will find peace with himself again soon. But a phase never feels like a phase when you’re going through it and, frankly, Stu wanted nothing more than to cruel up into a ball and not have to deal with any of it. This trail of thought was giving him a headache and, due to a near overdose a few weeks ago, his mother refuses to allow Stuart the bottle, so he had to stop thinking before it got worse.

Before he could successfully create the mindless hum he associated with peace, the brunette placed the tea on the table with a little more force then she intended, causing the liquid to spill over the sides. “Shit, sorry, let me just-“ She moved to grab a napkin to clean it up, but Stu was too fast, already mopping up the spill.

“No, it’s fine I’ve got it.” He replied absentmindedly. Before the female could respond, the bell on the door charmed indicating that a new customer had entered the establishment. The brunette gave Stu a kind smile before taking her place back behind the till to serve the newcomer.

After placing the now soiled napkin at the end of the table, Stuart added his four sugars to his tea, not paying attention to the world around him. That is until he heard a goistering that harshly pulled him out of his thoughtless state. The female was blushing red and looking down at the till, clearly shocked and embarrassed by whatever the man in front of her had said to cause such a pig of a laugh. The raven-haired male was leaning on the counter in a way-to-casual manner, getting as close to the girl as the surface allowed without putting any effort into it. Stuart frowned slightly, catching the female’s eyes before she coughed awkwardly, asking for his order in a more professional manner.

Noticing the girls sudden change in attitude, the man looked to see what had pulled her out of the moment, his eyes meeting Stuarts. The raven-hair fell slightly over a pair of mismatched eyes, one red and one black. When their eyes met, Stu found his breath catch in his windpipe and confusion flood his brain.

The eye contact lasted a few moments longer then a simple glance, and Stu would have held it longer if it was up to him, not letting the other look back to the female, to stand up straight and no longer flirt. “Is that your fella or something?” His voice was grainy, like he had been out last night and couldn’t help but sing along to the DJ at full volume.

She looked confused, flashing her eyes over the blue-haired boy and then back with a small smirk like the idea was hilarious. “No. I have no idea who that kid is.” Stuart frowned. Kid? He wasn’t a kid. He had a job and paid rent. He wasn’t a kid…

Biting his lip in a childish show of frustration, Stu kept his eyes down, running his thumb over the mug’s handle. The man, who Stu didn’t fail to notice was in his mid-20’s (and that's being polite), made a thoughtful huff, ordering a black coffee and a bacon roll before making his way to a seat behind Stuart. The kid couldn’t help but look behind him, wanting to see where the other sat. As a cover-up, he pulled out his pack of cigarettes from his pocket, using the need to lift himself up slightly (as he was a very tall, lanky lad) as an excuse. Stuart couldn’t help but feel disheartened as the other man sat in the chair furthest from himself as possible.

But he was also staring at the younger male. Intensely. With slightly narrowed eyes as though something bothered him.

It made Stuart's head hurt more and, as he placed the now loose cigarette into his mouth, he looked away quickly.

Just as he sparked up, the man called out, from across the cafe. “Lend me your matches.” It wasn’t a question, it was a dry demand that sent a slight shiver down Stu’s spine.

Without any time for a thought, Stu found himself standing from his seat, unlit cigarette in his mouth as he moved sheepishly across the wide space, eyes locked to his feet, suddenly self-conscious about how his last growth spurt made it difficult to walk without tripping. Once at the other’s table he handed the small box out, their eyes meeting momentarily as the man took it, before Stu’s eyes fell once again to the ground, suddenly feeling like someone with stage fright in Wembley. He could feel eyes continuing to stare at his though.

Once lit up, the man held the flame out, “Come ‘ere,” He said softly, the gravel in his voice still very much prominent around the fag in his mouth. Stuart's blue eyes widened slightly as his eyes flashed up at the offered flame before looking over to the till, feeling just as embarrassed as the girl had earlier. But the girl wasn’t there to witness like he had been moments ago.

“Hurry up. What, you wanting an audience?” The man sounded annoyed, and despite the total lack of humour, Stu couldn’t help making a small breath of a laugh, turning back to the now frowning man with a shy smile. He lent into the flame, breathing in to light the cigarette still in his mouth. The older man’s frown softened as he waves the flame out, keeping eye contact with the blue-haired, blue-eyed boy. They were like that for a felt like a long time, Stu leaning in slightly, both with a burning fag hanging in their mouths.

Now up close, the boy had a better look at the others face. It was harsh, with a clearly broken-but-healed nose, messy stubble, light scars, and wrinkles that looked out of place on his still tight skin. Stuart would have called him ugly if he wasn’t there staring at him. His clothes too, all leather and metal, the only way to describe the man could be ‘Rock’. This was a striking contrast to the more Mod style Stu donned, although he was a lot more relaxed about style than the other clearly was.

Stu didn’t hear the girl walk back into the room, but the man was quick to lean back, facing the kitchen door he heard her come through, handing the match box back. “Cheers Bluebird.” He muttered before smiling charmingly at the approaching female.

Only then did Stuart realise he was being dismissed and moved away quickly, shuffling back to his tea, glancing at the girl as he did so. She had a confused smirk on her lips, “Did I just interrupt something?” She asked the man in a playful tone, placing down his food and beverage.  
Without sitting down, Stu placed his hand on the mug, cold.

“Of course not luv, just borrowing the kids matches, that all. Why, you jealous?”

Sighing, Stu decided it best to leave. He was quick to walk out of the cafe, allowing himself one last glance in the man’s direction. Despite clearly flirting with the young lady, he was staring at Stuart again, giving him a small wink before placing his attention on the woman that was clearly after it.

Stu had butterflies as he walked back home, letting the cigarette burn on the way but not smoking it.

What was that?


	2. The Bus Stop

The next day was just like any other weekday for Stuart. He woke up, got his pills from his mum, washed and dressed, then ate breakfast with his parents before heading out. He met his mates at the corner shop, brought a load of junk and paid Billie’s older brother for the fags. They would walk to St. Wilfred's talking about the new Shadows record that none of them had managed to get their hands on yet, only to run the last stretch when they realised they were late and didn’t want to get a caning. They spent the next few hours pretending to believe in God and getting ready for their School Leaver’s exams the next week. Like normal, the teachers wondered why Stuart bothered to show up, he had always struggled, and it was clear he hated education, but it was so close to the end now he might as well try and fail then never try at all. After school, they sat in the local park and smoked a few before going their separate ways. It was a normal day for them all, nothing out of the ordinary happened.

Well, for everyone but Stu it was anyway. He couldn’t get that man, the one from the cafe yesterday, out of his head. It was weird, he’d never felt this feeling before. In an ideal world, he would have asked one of his mates if they knew what he was on about, but he had a feeling if he spoke up about it then they would call him gay. But Stu wasn’t gay, he’d had girlfriends, even shagged the last one. So he clearly wasn’t gay… Then again, he didn’t think of those birds the way he’s thinking about that man.

This was giving him a headache quickly, so he decided it best to just ignore what his mind was yearning to think about, what are the chances of meeting him again anyway? Not like he’d seen him before that day like the other locals.

Stuart got home, changing from the St. Wilfred's uniform into his more casual clothes. He calls his mum at work about wanting more pills, and she accepts not wanting to have an argument with Stu when she’s on duty. He takes two and heads out to the bus stop that will take him to his dad’s fairground.

He was pulling yet another cigarette out of his pocket when he spotted him. The other man, the one from yesterday, was leant against what Stuart recognised as a red Chevrolet Impala (that looked a lot older then it’s years) on the other side of the road. He was watching Stu with the same narrow-eyed, confused look as yesterday, but they were too far apart for their eyes to meet, so Stu shifted awkwardly, unconsciously looking the older man over and biting his lip lightly.

Why was he there? It was nothing but housing on this road. Did he live here? Was he following Stuart? The boy suddenly started to panic a little, the thoughts he’s been thinking all day suddenly becoming tinted with fear, the speed in which that happened implied there was little between them. He felt like an even bigger standout then he was, what with being 5’9” with bright blue hair. He fingered the unlit cigarette as he looked in the direction the bus will be coming from, hoping it would suddenly arrive and save him from the situation.

But it didn’t come. Stu looked at his watch, it wouldn’t be arriving for another five minutes. Five minutes is a long time when you don’t want to be waiting, and the bus is notorious for being late. He looked back over to the man, he was still there, only now pulling out a cigarette himself. Stuart watched him, feeling free to do so while the other's eyes were occupied. When the man looked back up, however, Stu was quick to look away. It was childish, the way he was acting, as though he was a school girl who has a crush on the teacher. The thought made the man chuckle a little under his breath and the sound only just carried through the still spring air to where Stu stood looking at his feet. The sound relaxed him, in an automatic way that caused the back of Stuart’s brain to send warning flags to the front. At least, it would have if Stu hadn’t taken drugs to stop his brain from talking too much.

Putting his pack back in his pocket, the man shrugged off the car, and made his way to the other side of the road, to where Stuart was standing.

“Couldn’t borrow your matches again, could I Bluebird?” He asked once standing in front of the boy. Now they were up-close and standing, Stu realised more about this man than he ever thought he wanted to know. He was about the same height as Stu, maybe a little shorter, but by the sound of his walking Stuart wouldn’t be surprised if he was wearing some sort of heel. His stubble has grown out more, clearly hadn’t shaved for a few days now, and he smelt of stale smoke and cheap booze. But it wasn’t a bad smell like a drunken homeless man might smell like, there was a muskier tinge to it. Together it was like he was wearing an expensive cologne that deliberately gave that effect. Stuart doubted it was cologne. He was wearing the same clothes as well, the dark materials sporting darker stains that, if anything, added to the man's look. Around his neck hung a low upside-down cross. The symbol made the hair on Stu’s arms raise in a way that wasn’t unpleasant. Everything about the older male should have made him look like an old, disgusting individual that needed to get a job and a shower, but it was carried well, and it made him fit in more than if he wasn’t in such a state. This wasn’t the type of person Stuarts mother would want him talking to. But his mother wasn’t here, and he was mature enough to know who he should or shouldn’t be talking to.

In the light of the late afternoon sun, Stuart also noticed the man’s skin had a slightly green tinge to it. Someone else might have questioned the odd shade, but Stuart was raised better than that, and so stayed quiet.

He dug his hand in his pocket, pulling out his matches and handing them to the other. The man took them and lit his cigarette before offering the flame to Stu. Once again, he took it, leaning the awkward distance the man was holding the flame at. This made him smirk in a way that an outsider would compare to a bully seeing the smaller kids cry. Once they were both lit, the older man pocketed the box. Stu didn’t notice, as he was distracted at the other’s eye contact. “Where you off to mate?”

Stuart lent back to his full height before answering, he had a fleeting debate about lying to the man, but a feeling in his stomach told him that lying might not be the best idea. “Me dad’s fairground. He wants me to help out tonight.” It came out a lot weaker and flat then Stu had intended.

What’s going on? Stu wasn’t this sheepish, why the sudden change? This thought made him frown his brows and narrow his eyes slightly. He didn’t realise he was still staring at the man or how that may have come across.

Apparently, it didn’t come across well as the older man was suddenly stone-faced at, what he perceived to be, the boy's attitude change. His chin lifted a little, looking down at Stuart with a surprising amount of dominance and disproval. “I was gonna offer you a lift to where you were heading. But if you’d prefer to take the bus, that’s fine by me.” His words were harsh, as though Stuart didn’t appreciate the effort the man was putting into the relationship that wasn’t there.

Of course, Stuart instantly felt bad about his lack of control over his facial features and voice tone. The man clearly took insult that wasn’t intended. Stu was quick to apologise, face lighting up in regret and hands coming up in a defenceless manner. “W-what?” His voice broke slightly at the startle of being reprimanded, “No, I-I didn’t mean it like that. Honest. I was just lost in thought, that all.” He rambled out in his high tone and strong Cockney accent.

This made the older man raised his eyebrow slightly, having heard the younger man properly speak for the first time it wasn’t what he expected from the lanky male. Maybe he was just a kid… “Well then, hop in and I’ll give you a lift.” The man didn’t give Stu any time to think this over as he was already moving to cross the road again. “The fairground you say? Can you point me in the right direction, Bluebird?” Once he reached the car, he opened the passenger side and held it open for the boy to hop in.

The use of the now determined nickname made Stu smile a little, irrational as it was. But it made him feel relaxed enough to slide in the passenger side without a second thought. “Yeah I know the way, thanks…” His sentence trailed off into a questioning tone as he realised he didn’t even know this mans name. His eyes widened a little in panic, looking up to the other who was still holding the door, smoking his cigarette, and looking down at the kid with a thoughtful look.

“Call me Muds.” Muds stated before slamming the side door and walking to get in the drivers.

“Muds.” Stu repeated quietly before the other got back in the car. He was testing it, feeling the name for the first time. Muds. It felt right in Stuart's mouth.


	3. The Drive to the Fair

The car smelled like him. Which wasn’t surprising. What was surprising was how clean it was. Every surface looked freshly wiped down and only a few beer cans in the back gave any hint that the man beside Stu owned the vehicle. The car held more of the musk then anything though. It wasn’t the worst thing the boy had ever smelt, but it was new and… sickly sweet. Stuart was thankful for the open windows and cheap air freshener that tried its hardest to cover it up.

Muds’ car started with a grumble and a soul tune played through the radio. The boy gave a quick overview of the directions as Muds pulled away from the pavement. Stu knew a few things about cars, his dad (as well as running the fairground) was a mechanic and Stu had spent countless hours as a child helping his dad out in the shop. But this meant he could tell that this car, although seemingly well looked after, sounded as though it had been driven up a mountain in the wrong gear. He kept his mouth shut about it, thinking it would be rude to question the man’s driving habits.

“You drive, Bluebird?” The older male asked, breaking the momentary silence, fingers tapping the wheel to the beat of the song the boy didn’t recognise. Stuart couldn’t help but think this radio station didn’t seem to fit with the outside persona Muds had built for himself.

“Kinda. I’ve been driving since I was tall enough to reach the peddles, but I don’t have a licence yet.” His reply was light, glancing a look to the driver. He wouldn’t admit it to himself, but something in the way the man scowled lightly at the other drivers, the way his hand was tight on the wheel, par the index finger that bounced in time to the music, Stuart couldn’t help but feel a sort of… fascination towards him. Stu’s brain teased the idea that he found the other man attractive, but that was brushed away as soon as it was conjured. _I ain’t gay._ Stu thought with a sudden wave of frustration as he turned away from the man and out the passenger’s window. “Why?” He asked back a little harshly, as his self-frustration leaked into his voice. 

Muds reply was a little bitter sounding, making the younger male regret questioning the interest he showed. “I’m just making conversation Kid.” Stu flinched a little, biting his lip. He looked down at his lap, trying to hide from the others glance behind some loose stands of azure hair. He wasn’t a kid and being referred to as such made Stu feel insufficient. But now didn’t feel like the time to challenge the man.

After noting the boy’s reaction, Muds continued to push the conversation along, “So your old man work at the fairground?”

Stu, still looking at his lap, shakes his head no, a few more strands of hair falling out of place. “He runs it, says it will be mine one day,” the statement causes the boy to breathe out a small laugh and look back up, pointing out the next couple of turns.

The corner of Muds mouth turns up slightly at the boy’s clear dismay about inheriting a business. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”

Suddenly Stu becomes very animated, his hands coming up in frustration like he’s been dying to rant about this for the longest time. If Stuart wasn’t so engaged in what he was saying, he would have noticed the older man snarl slightly at the sudden outburst. “What the hell am I meant to do with a fairground? The workers hates me for a reason I can’t even remember, I’m scared of the donkeys and of the clowns, it takes up me entire summer, and you live in a caravan for a month in the blazin’ heat. I would have to hire more people to help me manage the original people. I can’t deal with any sort of conflict the public is bound to bring, and that’s if they even show up because fairgrounds are no longer as popular as they were. I’m already working at me Uncles keyboard store and I’m ah hundred percent sure music will last longer than fairgrounds will. Not to mention it’s got a terrible name. Tosspot Fairground. We’re not even named Tosspot anymore, we’re just Pot!” Stuart ended his rant, crossing his arms frowning heavily, looking out the window as to not direct his frustration onto Muds again. His age was showing through more than ever before.

Muds was silent for a moment, letting the boy cool off. When he spoke again his voice was as gentle as the nasally sound could be, “I still need those directions Bluebird.”

Sighing, Stu let his arms fall, looking back out the windshield. “You go left here and then the third left before we’re there,” he directed quietly, feeling ashamed for reasons he couldn’t acknowledge. “And me name’s Stu, by the way, Stuart.” The boy looked down once again, playing with his fingernails.

The radio station rolled over to the news, Macmillan was talking about another cabinet reshuffle and giving updates on the American's war with Vietnam. They stayed quiet as a recording from parliament played, all noise without anything being said. Muds pulled up just before the turning Stu indicated would be the last. He turned the engine off, the noise of the radio dying off with it.

Stuart suddenly felt very nervous, unconsciously biting his lip. He could feel the man watching him again, hear the leather of his jacket move against the vinyl of the car seat. Could see his hard face in his peripheral vision, but he doesn’t look. Muds voice was just as hard as his face suggested, "How old are you, Stu?”

“Fifteen.” The boy answered quietly, watching Muds shift in his seat from the corner of his eyes. The older man wets his lips and closed his eyes slightly, as though he was thinking about want to say. Stuart was quick to interrupt his thought process, “I turn sixteen on the 23rd.” He felt an odd amount of pride blurting this out, looking up with his blue-eyes shimmering slightly. The teen didn’t really think much about the ‘special’ birthday because of how much hassle the age was, what with finishing school and needing to get an ID card, not to mention the change in his prescription. All those little things people tend to forget mentioning until they happen. Sixteen just never felt like a big deal to Stuart. That was, until this moment when he got to tell Muds about it.

His statement seemed to be the right thing to say, as the man opened his eyes and smiled slightly to the kid next to him, his eyes full of thought once again. “I can wait.” Stuart smiled brightly in return, he didn’t know what Muds was waiting for, but it sounded like the man wasn’t going anywhere fast, and that idea made Stuart happy.

Sensing their time together had come to a close, Stu moved to get out of the car, as he did Muds started the engine back up. “See ya Bluebird.” After the passenger door closed, the car drove off, leaving Stuart to walk the rest of way to the fairground. The guests were already entering through the gates and his father was waiting in the shack he used as an office.

The fairground had been in the Tosspot family since Queen Victoria’s reign when Crawley got a lot of traffic going through to London. Now with the airport not being too far away, the attendance was at a good, constant pace (despite what Stu had told Muds). David had given his son the task of going around and asking each of the attractions what needed to be replaced or updated. Stuart didn’t think he was being overdramatic when to say he hated _every second_ of it.

His mum, Rachel, met the two other Pot’s there after her shift at the hospital. The family got hotdogs from one of the stands for dinner before she and Stu went to take the night bus home. It wasn’t until they were taking off their shoes that the intrigued mother questioned the boys daydream state that evening. “Is it another girl? Because Mrs Stevens told me about that time she found you and her lovely daughter Rachel making out in the park.”

Stuart shuddered at the memory of his mother ripping into him about ‘corrupting that poor girl’ earlier that year. She wouldn’t listen when he tried to tell her she was the one corrupting him, not the other way around, “No mum it’s not a girl. I don’t really want to talk about it, I’m getting a headache.” To drive the point in, Stuart ran a hand through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp as he did so.

“You need a haircut.” His mother muttered under her breath, turning to enter the kitchen. She pulled the pill bottle out of the cupboard, counting them as she always does before handing them over. She stopped and glared at her only child. “There’s two missing,” her tone was high strung, ready to chew the boy out about taking them willy-nilly.

The tone of her voice made Stu’s head hurt more and he slipped into one of the kitchen chairs, rolling his eyes and sighing deeply. “I called you about it earlier, 'member?” It feels like they have this type of discussion every time they talk. Stu understands his mum’s job is stressful and she’s just trying to look out for her child, but, he’s fifteen, not twelve.

Having been reminded of the past conversation, Stuart’s mother relaxes, nodding and placing the pills into his open hand. “Cuppa?” She asked, filling their teapot and placing it on the stove. Stu grunts lightly in response, taking the two painkillers dry. His mum continues to ramble on about this and that as he closes his eyes, waiting for the medication to take effect.

“-and not to mention poor Mr and Mrs Limber, y’know, over on Tom Way, their daughter, Debra, only didn’t go home last night. God forbid what I would have done if you had been a girl Stu, must be terrifying surely. I mean, I’m frightened enough being married, imagine what it’s like to be a young girl!”

Stu frowns heavily at his mother’s words. Something made his stomach drop slightly, “Who’s the daughter?” He asked opening his eyes to look at his mum as she pours the water into their cups.

“I doubt you’ll know her Stu, a few years old then you I would expect. Works on the high street, last I heard she was in the cafe, bless. Apparently, according to Margrett Baily, she was known to be quite the loose one-” Stuart tuned her out again, his mind wandering to the day before. She’d been talking to Muds yesterday…

Before he could say something, there was a knock on the front door. Stuarts mother tuted at this, placing the tea down on the table next to the boy. “Who on Earth is calling at this time of night.” Watching the woman walk out of the kitchen, he added the sugar to his tea and took a deep drink. He wanted a cigarette.

A few moments later Stuart's mother came back in a bit of a rush. “The neighbours' dog got out, come help look for it.” It wasn’t a request and Stuart replied with a noise full of teenage angst, earning a glare from his parent, before rolling off his chair with so much attitude it could have knocked it over.

This had started off as a normal day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I only realised once this was done that Tosspot Fairground is in Eastbourne, not Crawley. But it's the early 1960's so maybe it was moved by 2003 (she says trying to calm herself down)  
> I also realise its a bit odd for Stu's mum Rachal to be talking about him making out with Rachel. But that is is the Gorillaz law's problem, not mine.


	4. Waiting

Time was passing at a strange pace. The days dragged excruciatingly slow, but it also felt like no time at all before Stuart was in the school’s assembly hall, papers before him and not knowing what to put down.

On one particularly bad day Stu had woken up with a killer of a migraine, the very idea of sitting up made him want to vomit, let alone going to school. Unfortunately for him, it was his technicians exam that afternoon (which he had the most chance of passing) and when Stuart didn’t come down for breakfast, his dad was in his room ripping the covers off his hiding body, yelling about how Stu was wasting the only chance he’s got and that having a bit of a headache wasn’t an excuse to avoid his problems anymore. Being the stubborn teen he was, Stu forced the bile that his father’s loud voice created down and dragged himself out of bed. He weakly pushed his father aside to make his way downstairs, using both the bannister and the wall for support as his vision blurred. He made it into the kitchen, vomited in the sink and went to the cupboard, pulling out his pill bottle. Before his mum could even contemplate what was going on, he emptied the contents into his mouth and swallowed. Luckily for him, there weren’t many left. Both of his parents stood in shock as the boy glared at them, followed promptly by him passing out on the tiled floor.

By the time the effects of the pills wore down enough for Stuart to be fully conscious of his surroundings, he was in the hall, technicians paper opened with what he guessed must have been his drugged attempt at writing covering the pages. Looking around, the other boys were passing him looks of annoyed or questioning, and the examiners were huddled together, scowling at him. Stuart's last chance at a life that wasn’t just the keyboard store and then that fucking fairground was in scribbles in front of him. He had never felt more depressed then that moment as he waited for the last few minutes of his future to pass by.

Once the boys were excused, his mates were on him, questioning what the hell happened and joked about wanting in on it. They explained that his dad dragged (“Literally dragged, by the hand like you were a kid!”) him into the school just ten minutes before the exam started, and then the nuns had to put a ruler on him to get him in his seat. He’d spent the first half hour just staring at the red marks on the back of his hands, and then the next twenty minutes scribbling on his paper.

Still not being sober enough to respond in an eligible manner, Stu groaned out his humiliation and self-hatred, melting to the grass that surrounded the school. He put his head between his knees and his hands in his blue hair. Craig offered him his bottle of water, while Bobbie offered up a cigarette. Stuart eagerly took both, burning half the cancer stick in one breath and downing most of the water in one gulp. The little support group was broken up as one of the Nuns coughed behind them.

Needless to say, Stuart's struggles hadn’t ended yet. After the group got a good caning that left their palms bloody, his father picked him up and dropped him off at the hospital staying worryingly silent the whole trip. His mother, who’s emotions towards Stuart were too overwhelming, let one of the other nurse’s treat him like a normal patient who took to many pills. It made him feel worse when the lady recognised him from the last time.

The following days were luckily a lot less eventful, but they were just as shit. Stuart finished his exams and gave one last middle finger to the building that made his life hell the past five years. Later that day he signed a full-time contract with his Uncle, now spending his days at Uncle Norm's Organ Emporium. His mum confiscated his cigarettes, not just as a symbol of authority, but because Stuart's new medication reacted weirdly to nicotine (he didn't have any matches anyway). The withdrawal was making his headaches worse. But his mother wasn’t loose on the pills, stating “If you haven’t started you wouldn’t have had to stop.” She tried talking to him a number of times about his emotions, but he kept brushing her off, often taking his frustration of life out on her. This only made him feel worse in the long run.

David suggested maybe Stuart should try and get himself a place in the block down the way, once his birthday had passed. He said he understood the boys need for independence and that he spoke with Rachel about backing off a little. Stuart didn’t say anything back.

His mood wasn’t helped by Muds. Or rather, the lack of Muds. The boy just couldn’t stop the man being in the back of his head all the time. He kept slipping into his dreams too, which made it hard for the teenager to ignore what the feelings actually were. Nearly three weeks had passed since the lift and Stu was sure Muds was lying about waiting for... whatever it was he was waiting for. Stu wondered if he did anything wrong, that maybe the man realised the boy's emotions before he had, and was disgusted at him.

The day before his birthday, Stuart was working in the shop like the new norm. Although they didn’t get a lot of business, customers did come and go quite frequently. Besides one keyboard sold for more than the shop's rent. A lot of Stu’s working day was going around, playing each of the keyboards, for if they didn’t get used after their first turn on, they were prone to malfunction. The task would have driven a lot of people mad with the mundanity of it, Stu didn’t mind one bit.

Stuart was playing a jazzy tone on one of the older models, it ended a lot sadder then it had started. A slow clap came from the front of the store. If he’d heard anyone come in he would have stopped, a pinch of pink coated the boy’s cheeks at being walked in on. He looked up to see the customer.

Except the man wasn’t a customer. Stuart, despite believing he had been ditched, wasn’t even the slightest bit surprised to see Muds stood there. He wore a smirk, as though he thought the boy had just been waiting for him the last few weeks.

When in reality, he _knew_ the boy had just been waiting for him the last few weeks.

As soon as the slow clap had finished, Stu spoke up, “Give us a fag, me Mum took mine.” The man laughed at the request, smiling at the boy fondly. This was a very different attitude then the one Stuart remembers in the car. Or at the cafe.

“Take me out the back first.” Muds gestured towards the ‘Staff Only’ sign.

Nodding in agreement, Stu pulled himself up, walking over to the shop front to lock the door and turn the ‘Open’ sign over to ‘Closed’, before heading to the back with Muds trailing behind. He wondered why the man wanted to go back there, it was literally just an alley.

They passed through the small office and storage room before going through the back exit and out into the narrow alleyway. Stuart watched the older man close the door too, leaning on the wall with his hands behind his back.

No words were spoken between them as Muds pulled out his box of fags, looking at the surrounding buildings as though he was searching for something. Stu’s head crocked to the side in confusion, wondering what the hell he could be looking for out here. Whatever it was, the man couldn’t find it as he placed two cigarettes into his mouth and lit them. Stuart didn’t change his look of confusion as he eagerly took one.

Muds crocked an eyebrow at the look the kid was giving him, smiling a little half smile. “What is it Bluebird? Got something on my face?” He ran a hand over his jaw in a humorous manner.

Actually, it was the very opposite. The man was almost unrecognisable. He was clean-shaven, his clothing (although still very much a gritty rock style) were changed and seemingly freshly laundered and his face had less of the tight lines that were caused by the scowl. He even smelled different, the smell of fresh smoke and whisky, and none of the musk that plagued him before. Stuart, although drawn in by the other Muds, preferred this one. It made something in him hum in a way he couldn’t explain.

Suddenly feeling a fresh wave of embarrassment, Stu’s eyes dropped to the ground, taking a deep drag before speaking again, “You left.” That hadn’t meant to come out. The words hung in the smoke, the boy cringing at it.

Muds sighted deeply, shifting on his feet in what Stuart would have thought to be an out of character move, “Yeah. I’m sorry about that. Needed to deal with something.” Stu looked up in surprise at how genuine that apology sounded to him, how the guilt on the man’s face looked real. “I’ll make it up to you.” Muds nodded, like that made the words carry more meaning.

For Stuart to say he was confused about the man's attitude change would be the understatement of the year, but he couldn’t help form the dopey smile as he played with the cigarette in his hand, the need for nicotine suddenly no longer an issue. Muds matched the smile in a less dopey manner “It’s okay,” Stu reassured hearing the joy in his voice for the first time in what felt like forever. “I mean, you’re here now, aren’t ya?”

That caused the man’s smile to drop, not looking the kid in the eye. “Actually,” the word was dragged out, Muds scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, “I’m only passing through to see _you_ , Bluebird. I need to go again tonight. Not looking like I’ll be back in town for a whiles neither.”

It was Stu’s turn to drop his smile, his eyes widening in horror. This is the first time he didn’t feel like total crap in such a long time, and the reason is just going to abandon him. “What you mean you need to go again. Why? You only just got here!” In Stuart's panicked state, he missed the flash of a smile the older man had at the reaction, only to compose himself into a more sorrowful state.

Muds sighed deeply, as is he was at a loss, still not meeting Stu’s wide eyes. “I don’t know what to suggest Stu… I’m here the rest of the day, I know that ain’t long but-“

“Let me go with you!” Stuart spurted out, jolting forward to grab the other's arm in a desperate act.

The older man stood in shock, his eyes and mouth both ajar. “Wh-what?” He blinked, shaking his head his plan just became redundant.

Stuart relaxed a little, letting his hand slowly trail down the other's arm, “Please let me go with ya Muds.” The kid's voice was soft as his blue-eyes looked like a puppy was about to be drowned in the sewage.

With his bewildered look still very evident on his face, Muds' eyes moved to where Stuart's hand now rested on his wrist, the two stood like that as Stuart waited for some sort of reaction, any sort of reaction. “Murdoc.” Muds voice was flat, eyes still on the hand gripping his wrist.

Stuart was the one thrown off guard now, forming a frown at the seemingly random word choice. The air around the two males shifted. “What?”

“Please let me go with you, Murdoc.” The man looked up slowly, his face cold and tone colder. Stuart swears the red in his left eye glowed a little.

He pulled his hand away quickly, every one of Stuart's nerves becoming tingly as the man glared into his very soul. “Please let me go with you Murdoc.” The boy repeated in a barely audible whisper.

The man smiled. “Of course you can Stuart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little thing I've learned about keyboards there, may not be fact but it's something I've noticed.


	5. Instructions

Murdoc’s instructions were very clear. Stuart was to finish his shift at Uncle Norm's Organ Emporium and go home just like a normal day. Then, as to not upset his parents, Stuart was to have dinner and whatever the hell families do in the evening until he goes to bed for the night. Only then should Stu pack the essentials into a rucksack. "If it don’t fit. Don’t bring it". Then wait until his, “mummy and daddy go dreamland”, before leaving as quietly as he could, as not to wake them.

The boy did question why he wasn’t to tell his parents about leaving, but Muds made him realise that it was a stupid question and that would only make everything a thousand times more difficult. They probably would be reluctant to let their only child go off with a man they didn’t know to an undetermined place. And even if they did let him go, it would be an emotional time and Muds didn’t have time to wait for them to bawl out their farewells. Once out of the house without being noticed he was to meet Murdoc at the bus stop that goes to the fairground.

He left after that, said he needed to make some arrangements now the boy was going with him. This left Stuart to open the shop back up for the last few hours of work, then make his way back home. Rachel didn’t have a shift today so was able to make Stu and David a proper meal with chicken breast. Over dinner, they spoke about how Stuart's grandparents were popping over tomorrow along with Uncle Norman for dinner to celebrate his birthday. This was a topic that Stu didn’t have much to contribute to, pushing the homegrown veg around his plate, suddenly not feeling very hungry. His father asked if he wanted to have any of his friends over on the weekend. Even offering up the house, saying him and mum could spend the day at the fairground. Stuart realised saying no would cause them to think something was wrong, and he didn’t want to seem ungrateful, so he accepted the offer with a shy smile.

After dinner, he helped his mother wash and dry the dishes. His father tinkered with the faulty electric mixer which Rachel argues is perfectly fine and the smoke coming off it the other day was just something that it did. The boy smiled sadly at the couple lightly argued, David trying to explain what the issue was, only for Rachel to not understand and roll her eyes. “Just get it fixed before I make the cake tomorrow.”

Stuart said he was going upstairs for the night as his mother finished making their last cups of tea for the evening, just in time for Carnation Street to come on the telly. He stood a little awkwardly in the doorframe, not wanting to go upstairs yet and instead picked at a small bubble in the glossy paint. As the pair settled on the sofa, David noticed his boy loitering and laughed, “You alright there Stu?”

Stuart nodded quickly as a lump formed in his throat, “Yeah it’s just…” The teen bounced on the balls of his feet, lips pushing together, struggling to hold back any sign he wanted to cry as he focused on the bubble. Muds said he shouldn’t let his parents see him cry, that it would make it harder. “I love ya, yeah?”

Both of his parents sniggered lightly at this, sharing a caring look, “And we love you to, son.” David said with a wide smile at the teen.

“And nothing will ever change that Stu.” His mother added, looking up just as lovingly.

Nodding quickly again, a few tears welled up in his eyes, his lips quivering at the strain of holding back a sob. His mother’s smile faded as she watched her child. “Oh, Stuart.” The woman got up, setting down her cup in favour of holding out open arms. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

Despite Murdoc’s voice telling him not to, the boy fell into his mother’s open arms, heavy sobs soaking the back of her blouse. She hushed in his ear, stroking his back. Stu’s dad just watched in bafflement to the sudden breakdown.

It didn’t take very long for Stuart's mother to calm her baby boy down enough that he could answer questions. “Stuart, I need you to tell me what’s the matter.”

“N-nothing.” He lied, the tears still streaming, pulling away from his mothers embrace and into her arms, trying to distance himself from this conversation.

It was dad’s time to step in then, standing up and placing another hand on the boys back, a gentle sign they _are_ having this conversation. His strong voice was just as gentle as the hand, “No Stu, something has been off for weeks now. We’re worried about you.”

Stuart, now unforcefully pinned between his parents, only had the option to turn his head to avoid their concerned faces. He didn’t know what to do, what to say. Murdoc was right he shouldn’t have cried in front of them, it was making it more difficult and he was running out of time.

Rachel and David were in no rush though, they didn’t need to communicate to know that no matter what, tonight they were finding out what has been causing their child to act so strangely. They didn’t say anything as Stu searched for words, only rubbed his back and arms in slow, caring motions.

Finally, Stuart swallowed the saliva in his mouth and moved his hand up to wipe at his wet face, the tears now at a slower pace. “I…” His words caught in his mouth, not wanting to come out. He tried again. “I… I think I like boys.” It felt good to be able to say it aloud and he looked up at his parents with a short-lived sense of pride.

Their reactions were very different. Stuart felt his fathers hand fall away from his back while his mother's grip on his arms tightened. His eyes flicked between them. Rachel had the same face Stuart had just before he broke down, watery eyes closed and mouth tight. But she was nodding her head ever so slightly, the confession only confirmed her fear.

David, on the other hand, stepped away, his face paled and shocked, as though someone had just shot him in the chest. The way he looked at Stuart… it was like the boy was holding the gun.

“What did you just say?” He asked, trying to let the words set in.

“David don’t-“

“No Rachel. Let the kid speak.”

Stuart was on the verge of breaking down again as his father stared at him in such a cold manner. He couldn’t say it again. Mainly in fear of what the next reaction was going to be.

Staying silent didn’t make his father go away though if anything it made it worse as the man yelled, stepping forward to show his dominance in the situation, “WHAT DID YOU SAY?”

“I’m homosexual, dad.” It sounded like a plea because it was. Stu was pleading his dad to accept it, to not react that way.

David took a deep breath to yell again, but Rachel interrupted him with a strong headed tone through silent sobs. “God Dham it David if you yell again I will leave you. Now go calm yourself down before you open your mouth and say something you will forever regret.”

The man didn’t need an excuse to leave, storming out the front door, grabbing his car keys on the way.

After the doors slam stopped shaking the front room windows, Stuart's mother smiled weakly at his son. “We will always love you, Stuart. Both me and your father.” She ran her hands over his arms again, “It just might take him a little time to remember that.” The woman had to get on her toes to reach her son’s forehead to place a loving kiss to it. She folded her arms back around him and they just stood there for a while. The sound of the soap opera forgotten in the background.

Stuart eventually pulled away, a weak smile on his red and snotty face, “I’m going to go to bed. I love you, mum.”

“I love you too sweetie.” She matched his smile before kissing him on the cheek and letting him go.

As soon as Stuart closed his bedroom door, he was packing. He kept having to remind himself to be slow about it, as to not be ready prematurely and as to not make noises of suspicion.

Whenever dad leaves like that he doesn’t come back until the morning, choosing to stay in the summer caravan then ask his wife to let him back in the house. So Stu didn’t need to worry about him coming back just as he goes to leave. And, going by how exhausted he is, mum would probably be following Stu up to bed soon. Which meant it wasn’t long until he was able to leave.

Stuart knew now it was the right decision to go. Dad will never be able to look him the same way now, and mum doesn’t need that burden in her life. Besides, Muds only said he wouldn’t be passing through town anytime soon, not that he would never be coming back here. Stuart will see his mother again, and he’ll be older and hold more confidence to face his father again too.

Smiling at his vision of the future, Stu wondered into the bathroom to clean up his face and grab his few toiletries. His eyes were bloodshot red and puffy, and Stuart felt a sudden ping of panic because Murdoc had told him not to cry and it was clear he had. The man was right, it did mess everything up…

He wandered back into his room, having to repack his rucksack several times to get what he wanted into it. He kept thinking though, about whether this was a good idea or not. In the end, he concluded it was too late to turn back now, Stuart didn’t want to stay any longer. He wanted to go with Muds, so what if he didn’t follow his instructions? His parents still didn’t know who Murdoc was and they still didn’t know he was leaving.

With the house being in total darkness, Stu tripped on the last stair, saving himself from falling completely by grabbing the wall. He was still for a few moments, listening to hear if his mum had stirred. Once satisfied she hadn’t, Stu continued to the door, unlocking the bottom lock before remembering his pills.

The new prescription had been working great and he thought it would be foolish to leave them behind. So off he crept into the kitchen to the cupboard where his bottle of pills were kept. He shoved them in his trouser pocket before heading back to the front door.

He locked up behind himself, shoving the keys through the letterbox. And walked out the front gate for what would be the last time. He walked down those streets for the last time, and then turned to the main road, for the last time.


	6. Cracks in the Foundation

Muds parked in a dark patch between the light of two street lamps, which meant Stu didn’t see it until he was fairly close by. It was just enough to cause a feeling of dread at the idea Muds just simply didn’t show up. But once the car was spotted, the boy smiled widely and jogged to the driver’s door, leaning over to see the man sat inside.

The window was open and cigarette smoke flew into the sky in a way that was almost artistic. “There you are,” the man said as he spotted the boy. “Throw your shit in the back and hop in. We need to get going.”

Stuart nodded keenly, standing up and walking to the back of the car. Just as he went to open the boot, he heard Muds suddenly get out as well, “No, no, no!” He had a frown and a frustrated tone. It caused Stu to instantly step back from the vehicle and the man stood himself between the boy and the car, physically stopping Stu from trying to open it again. “The boot doesn’t open. Never has.” For some reason, Stuart didn’t really believe this, but he stayed quiet as Muds took the rucksack off him. “Just get in.”

The boy did just that. His smile now gone, a slightly empty feeling replaced it. A song he recognised as being from The Quarrymen played, but he didn’t hear the lyrics over his own soundless thoughts. If he had, he might have heard the universe’s warning.

Murdoc got back in shortly after Stu, looking at the boy with slight annoyance as he started the engine. The man did a double take and sighed. “You’ve been crying.”

Stu had hoped that it would be too dark for the other to notice, he was more perceptive then the boy had thought. He bit his lip, eyes looking down at his lap, not knowing what to say in response.

“Your parents see?” Murdoc was clearly trying to hide his anger, the strain in his voice making Stuart tense more then if he just let it out.

The boy nodded, pulling the sleeves of his jumper over his hands, and sinking into the chair more.

The man hit the steering wheel in frustration, “For fuck sakes. I shouldn’t have come back for you,” he looked up in thought, trying to quickly think up a plan.

Stu, who had already been crying and was tired, felt tears build in the corner of his eyes again. But he was determined not to let them spill over. That would just make the situation worse. “They-“ The kid's voice was thick, a sudden slug in his throat making it hard to form words, “They don’t know 'bout you, or 'bout me leavin’.”

Muds gave him a confused look of distaste, “What did you say when they saw you crying then?” Despite the look he was giving Stu, the boy was happy to hear it was less strained.

“I-I told ‘em I was g-gay.” Stuart sniffled, a single tear escaping which he quickly wiped away with the back of his covered hand.

There was silence for a moment, Muds looking the boy over. “They gonna report you?” The question was a bit more direct then Stu had prepared for, having not thought of that side of things yet.

After another moment of tense silence, Stu shook his head no, “They won’t.” He was confident they wouldn’t, even if dad disowned him for all this, he wouldn’t report him.

This seemed to calm Murdoc down a lot, he got two cigarettes out of his packet and thought about his next move. Or rather, the kid's next move. Murdoc could kick him out, drive away and forget about him. He contemplated other options as well, some leaving the boy, some taking him with, and some… No. He wasn’t the man's type for that side of things.

Muds lit both cigarettes and handed held one out. Not looking up, Stu took it. The car started again, and they drove away from the curve. Stuart focused on calming himself down, although he didn’t think he was being overly emotional considering the circumstances. The silence continued as Murdoc drove the two out of Crawley. The streets were clear in the night and every time the Impala would bump on the road, the front lights would flicker.

Just like most things, Stuart didn’t say anything about it, but he decided that when he gets the chance he’s giving Muds' car the attention it clearly needs. For the now sixteen-year-olds safety if anything.

Stuart no longer recognised where they were, but the man drove the misused car as though he knew the way like the back of his hand. He had finally stopped silently crying and was about to ask where they were going when Muds broke the silence first. “How long you know?”

The vague question on top of everything else made Stu’s head begin to hurt, he wished he had another cigarette, but they hadn’t long had one and the boy felt too awkward to ask. “What you mean?” Stu, who was still making himself small, looked up with questioning eyes.

“You being gay.” Stuart was once again surprised at how direct Murdoc was being about it. The boy had only learnt what a homosexual was a year or two ago and then didn’t think about it again until he was with Rachel Stevens and even that was only a fleeting question. Meeting Muds was the first time the kid actually gave it any proper thought.

The bluntness made him blush profoundly, shifting uncomfortably in the seat. “Not long,” he practically whispered, like talking about it was wrong.

Muds chuckled, amused by the reaction. “What, you saw a photo of Elvis in uniform or something?”

Stuart frowned at Muds mockery. “No.” He replied sharply, not really in the mood. Stu regretted going with the man slightly, he didn’t want to have to deal with this.

The attitude only fuelled the others enjoyment. “Well there must have been something, a sexual awakening is something few people forget.”

Stu’s face burned, cringing at the mention of sex. Growing up in a typical nuclear family and going to a Christian school meant the boy had a very sheltered life when it came to this subject. His friend Bobbie’s brother once ‘accidently’ dropped a dirty magazine in the hallway when Bobbie had his mates over. And there was his the time with Rachel, but they never spoke about it, just acted (yeah it was the fucking worse when they started, but it waan't rocket science). And now Murdoc is speaking about it in such a relaxed and casual way… “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

The older male shook his head, chuckling, “Didn’t realise you were so innocent Stu. Feel a little bad for bringing you now. Mine was Miss November in a nudie calendar, by the way. Oh, what I would’ve done to her.” The man continued to make a series of laugh like sounds, it could only be described as Murdoc-y. Stuart wrinkled his nose in hopes of never hearing such noises again.

Choosing to try an ignore the conversation that was happening, Stuart looked out of the window and into the dark landscapes. Due to the dark, he was more looking at himself in the window's reflection, but that was still better than the subject choice. He looked ruff, and sleep would be a good step towards looking, and feeling, better. But Murdoc was still going on about the calendar he got his hands on when he was seven (‘ _senven?!_ ’) so he knew sleep wasn’t going to happen in the car. And even if the man was quiet for long enough, the radio was still playing rock and roll, and the car itself was practically screaming.

Another reason for not wanting to continue the conversation is, well, Muds was talking about liking the woman in the calendar. Yet Stuart thought… Well, Stuart didn’t think. That’s why he’s here, isn’t it?

He didn’t know what he wanted. He didn’t think about what this will be like, what they are going to do now. All he knew was he wanted to be with Muds. But it doesn’t seem like he wanted to be with Stu the same way, whatever way that would be. The thought of this made Stuart sad again. Not balling his eyes out, red face manic sad. But the same empty feeling he’d been feeling a lot, since before he met Muds. It was foolish to think that feeling would go away if he ran off with the man.

Stuart's head rested on the cool glass, looking out at the nothingness outside. “Where are we going?” He had caught the other between rambles, but the man didn’t seem at all phased by the interruption.

Looking over to the boy, he sighed slightly, the kid needed sleep. “I’ll stop at the next inn or something. We can sleep until the morning.”

This caused Stu to look up at the man, his face soft, “But then where?”

Questions clearly weren’t something Murdoc appreciated. The man narrowed his eyes, and Stu made sure to note just how quickly his emotions can change. It seems like the slightest mishap can cause Muds to lock up and become angry. “If you must know, we’re going to Reading.”

Confusion made Stuart narrow his eyes back, they had been driving a while now, and the boy knew Reading was only an hour or two away. “Shouldn’t we be there already then?” If it wasn’t for his raw emotions and need for sleep, Stu would have kept his mouth shut and just gone along with it. But that wasn’t the case.

“Clearly not kid. If we should be there, then we would be there. Got any other dumb statements?” Murdoc snapped in response. His grip on the steering wheel tightened and he glared at the boy beside him.

“Actually, that’s another thing.” Stu sat up fully, anger showing on his face without restriction. “I’m not a kid.”

This caused Murdoc to let out a single, nasty laugh. “Oh really?” He suddenly stopped the car, so suddenly in fact, that Stu’s face very nearly slammed into the dashboard. The kid’s face turned fearful for a movement before glaring at the madman beside him. “Then it shouldn’t be an issue if I kicked you out the car? Let you find your own way back?”

Stuart was too caught up in the moment to realise that threat wouldn’t prove if he was a kid or not. But he did realise it was a threat. He was going be kicked out on this country lane without any way of getting back to civilisation, they hadn’t seen any sign of active life in ages. “You wouldn’t do that.” His uncertainty was clear in his voice.

Murdoc snarled again, scrolling his eyes at Stu in a way that made the other's skin crawl. “I think you know I would. I’m going to make this very clear right now Stuart, I don’t like it when people test my patience or question my methods and if you mess with me, I’ll mess with you. Understand?”

The boy only nodded, once again trying to make himself small at the words being spat at him.

The nod wasn’t enough though, “Say; Yes Murdoc.”

Stuart’s wide eyes looked down as he mumbled a “Yes Murdoc,” in response.

The man shook his head in a threatening manner, eyes shooting daggers at the boy before him. “No Stuart. Look at me and say it again.”

Stu didn’t want to. He realised that this was a power play, but he also didn’t have any other option. His eyes found mismatched ones, and making sure to speak more clearly repeated, “Yes Murdoc.”

Murdoc relaxed at the submission. Looking away without another word, driving once again. He needed to get that kid some sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact! The Quarrymen then went on to become The Beatles, and the two big songs are about being in shitty relationships. It's actually really annoying because both Murdoc and 2D only really listen to songs from the 80's and 90's. But those song's aren't around then so I trying to look up the inspiration of those songs, but then I can't see them enjoying the songs presented and it's really getting to me.


	7. B&B

It took another half hour of intense silence before they found a small B&B in an equally small village. Stuart officially had no idea where they were, but he tried to get used to that feeling of uncertainty. He trusted Muds’ navigation, he needed to believe there was some type of logic to all this.

When the car had stopped, the boy waited for Muds to get out before quickly following, not wanting to do anything to trigger the man again. Murdoc was lighting up, and Stu felt frustration to notice he’d only lit one. Clearly, they were still mad at each other, but that didn’t mean the man could be a fag hog. Stu scrolled at the back of his head as they walked down the building’s front path.

Muds knocked on the door loudly, trying to wake the house owners up. It didn’t take long for the entry light to be turned on. As the front door was opened, Muds handed Stu the half-smoked cigarette before trying to convince the older woman to let them in for the night. The act was small, and the man didn’t pass the opportunity to snarl slightly as the boy took it, but it was an act that showed Stu he was there. Not just physically, but there in the back of Muds’ head as something he needed to look after, give half his ciggy to. It made Stuart glow inside, a small smile forming on his lips as he shied away, taking a drag.

Stuart couldn’t follow the conversation Muds was having with the B&B’s owner, the headache he was being threatened with earlier had now become the start of a migraine and all of Stu’s focus was on not letting it spread.

Something about short notice and cousins meant the two males were given a double room with an extra handful of pillows. This made no sense to the boy, but Muds seemed pleased with the outcome, so he didn’t give it any other attention.

Once inside the medium-sized room, their bags dumped on one of the armchairs, Muds pulled a flask out of his jacket pocket, taking a deep drink and scoping out the place in the same manner he had in the alleyway. The boy couldn’t help but watch him with longing eyes as he sat at the end of the bed and kicked off his shoes.  

Satisfied with the room, Muds then moved to the window to repeat the routine before closing the curtains. If Stu was more with it, he would have noticed how paranoid the man seemed. But he wasn’t with it. Instead, he pulled the pill bottle out of his trouser pocket, in hopes of easing his headache enough to sleep.

Before he could get the cap off, Muds was standing over him, hand wrapped around the younger one’s wrist, pulling it towards him so he could see the prescription label on the side. The sudden sharp movement made the boy hiss slightly in pain, but Muds took no notice.

“What are these?” Murdoc asked, letting go of the boy’s wrist, watching him with an inquisitive look as he took another drink.

Having the man’s attention like that, it made Stu smile a little as he massaged his now sore wrist. “Painkillers, me mum gets ‘em for me after the accident.”

This perked Muds interest, and something in Stuart felt warm, his smile growing slightly. “What accident?”

“I fell out a tree when I was eleven,” the boy explained, shrugging a little to show he was over it, “All me hair fell out and it grew back blue-“ he ran his uninjured hand through his blue locks- “Dad says I should’ve been home-schooled after that, somethin’ ‘bout long-term damage? Anyways, now I get migraines a lot, and need to take these for ‘em.” Stu shook the bottle a little, and the way Murdoc was looking at him was like he was working out a puzzle. It made the kid feel like a puzzle worth solving.

They were silent for a moment as Stu took two of his pills out, taking them with a sip of the flask that Muds offered. It burned his throat, causing him to cough. The man laughed in response, moving away from the boy to their bags. “What kinda long-term damage?” It sounded more light-hearted then the question was, but Stuart was so happy to be back in his good books to question anything.

Stu once again shrugged to show it was no big deal. “I can still do maths and stuff, just, not as quickly I guess. I don’t know, they tried to explain it but I guess I didn’t listen…” Stu’s voice trailed off, a small frown as he realised he really didn’t know what was wrong with him. He seemed fine and dandy to himself.

Muds made a small grumble of acknowledgement before taking yet another deep swig of the liquor, Stu can’t imagine there would be much left in there now, and tossed the kids bag over to where he sat on the bed. “I’m going to go check the rest of the place out. Want you to be asleep when I get back, all right Bluebird?”

Stuart couldn’t think of why he would need to check the rest of the place out, it was a random B&B in the middle of nowhere. He nodded his response, Murdoc's eyes narrowing in a threating fashion. "Yes Murdoc,” The boy quickly said instead, earning an approving nod of the man. He then watched the man leave in silence. Watching him down the rest of the flacks’ contents and tossing it to the armchair.

Now alone, Stu was able to fall back onto the bed, sleep almost immediately taking over. He felt a little dizzy, it was probably a bad idea to mix his pills with whatever it was Muds was drinking, but it was too late to do anything about it and he was just going to sleep the effects off anyway. After a long moment of just doing nothing, Stu pulled himself up and changed into his sleepwear. Due to the space he was allowed, Stuart only had a fresh pair of boxers and a vest to sleep in, as opposed to the normal set he wore at home.

Once changed, he went over to the wall switch to plunge the room into darkness before climbed under the sheets. It was an old bed, that was clear by the way it dipped under the boy as he rolled on his side, but it was also at the magic point of usage, where the springs were broken in, but not yet miss formed. Sleep came to the boy almost immediately as his blue eyes closed.

* * *

 The boy was only able to get a small amount of sleep before Muds woke him by climbing into the bed with a bit of a bounce. Stu was about to just roll over and get back to his dreamless slumber, but he didn’t get that opportunity.

“You awake Bluebird?” His voice was thick and very heavy sounding. It was clear he had continued to drink after leaving the room.

Stuart sighed lightly, rolling onto his back to look up at the dark ceiling. “I am now.” He didn’t try and hide the annoyance in his voice.

Murdoc was propping himself up on one arm, facing the boy as he tried to get his packet of cigarettes from his front pocket. Due to his drunken state and position, it was a losing battle. He gave up after some time, and Stu turned his head to give the man a light glare at his disturbing fidgeting, Muds sniggered a little at this, “Couldn’t help me out, could ya?” Not moving from his position, Muds simply lifted the arm he wasn’t leaning on, presenting Stu with the pocket the cigarettes were stuck in. He had taken his shirt off but not his trousers, the gold upside-down cross still hanging around his neck.

With a heavy sigh and an eye roll, the boy realised that he wouldn’t be able to get any more sleep until Muds was content. He shifted to his side as well, facing the man who, in the dimly lit room, looked almost dreamlike, despite his clearly drunken state. Stu swallowed quietly as he reached out and slipped his hand into the front pocket. Muds chuckled in a raunchy way that made Stu look at everything but what he was doing. He got the packet and box of matches out without any problem, holding them out for the other to take. They were close enough that the duvet was taut above them, creating a small covered area between the two.

The man didn’t move to take them from him, only smirked at the boy like he was up to something, his eyes twinkling mysteriously in the dark. Stuart wished Muds had waited until the morning to be weird like this, he was still tired and not in the mood. Sighing again, a little more emphasized to show his annoyance, he pulled out one of the cigarettes, putting it in his mouth and sat up as to not set fire to the sheets as he lit the match. Stu deliberately blew the smoke into the man's face, holding out the now lit cancer stick.

Muds sniggered a little again, closing his eyes and opening his smirking lips. Stu got the silent request and placed the cigarette in his mouth, the smell of liquor was strong. “Can I go back to sleep now?” The boy pleaded quietly as he shimmied back under the covers, resting his head on the pillows as he watched the man smoke, being less careful of the sheets.

“You wanna drink?” Muds asked instead of replying to the question, he clumsily reached behind him to grab a bottle of golden liquid from the nightstand, Stu was surprised he didn’t spill any.

Stuart had never drunk before, which may seem odd considering everything else. The truth is, drink scared him a little. Every time he saw his dad drink he would get loud and too handsy with mum, when he was with his mates when they drank, they all became bedends. But this wasn’t like those times, and, while Muds was being really annoying, he wasn’t reacting badly to the substance. What’s the worst that could happen? Stu was going to fullback to sleep as soon as he could anyway.

Not saying anything, the boy reached out to take the bottle from the man, but Muds smirked again shaking his head and placed the bottle to his lips for him. Frowning a little, Stu opened his mouth and let the fluid being poured into it, he had to pull back and nudge Muds’ hand to stop it from overflowing. He swallowed the large mouthful and shook his head a little at the taste. It was better than whatever was in the flask, but it was still unpleasant and left his mouth and throat tingle. “What even is that?” Stu asked, the frown showing his disgust as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Muds shrugged, once again sniggering at the kids’ reaction, “Whiskey? Bourbon? It all tastes the same after a while, and it’s too dark to read the label.” He took another drink, not looking away from the boy beside him.

“It’s better than that other stuff anyway,” Stu replied, nuzzling his head int the pillow a little more, trying to give the sign that he wanted to sleep again.

“Each to their own. I personally prefer the rum.” He offered the cigarette to the boy, not noticing his signals.

Stuart took it with another sigh, once again giving up and rolled onto his back after a few drags he passed it back. “Do you drink a lot?” After noticing the smell of alcohol on him more then once, the beer cans in the back of his car, and now learning he carries a flask of pure rum and is drinking freely from the golden bottle, it’s clear the man isn’t shy with it.

Muds chuckled at this, moving into more of a slouched sitting position, with one arm behind his head, the other holding the fag and the bottle leant against his leg. “Not as much as my old man did.” He laughed a little, taking another swig before handing the bottle back to Stu.

It was odd for Stuart to think of Murdoc having a family. But he supposed it wouldn’t make any sense for him to just not have any type of relations. It made the boy smile a little, the idea of Murdoc being a child with a mum and dad was funny to him for a reason he couldn’t explain. Stu took the bottle, taking a smaller mouthful then before, “Your old man must have drunk a lot then.” The comment was light-heartedly.

Because he was looking at the ceiling, he couldn’t see Muds smile fade, his eyes becoming sad. “I don’t think he ever stopped.” The humour was gone from his voice, and Stu panicked slightly at the fear he might have said something wrong.

He was quick to sit up, crossing his legs and looking over the man with wide eyes, ready to submit if needed. But Muds just looked at him with those saddened eyes, it made Stu feel bad for him, his heart sinking a little. His hands played with the top of the bottle awkwardly.

Muds finished the cigarette and moved to put it out in the side tables ashtray, when he turned back, he ran his hand through Stu’s blue locks, the eye contact intense. “Sometimes I’m scared I’m just like him.”

Stuart couldn’t help but lean into the touch, his mouth turning into a small frown. He didn’t know what to say back. The boy didn’t know enough to reassure the man, not that he knew how he would be able to cheer up someone who was drunkenly sad anyway.

They just sat like that, Muds moving his hand through the boy’s hair in a small repetitive pattern, every now and then taking a drink. It wasn’t until the boy’s eyes started to get heavy and he was yarning softly did he remove his hand.

Without saying anything, he put the bottle on the nightstand and lightly wrapped his arms around Stu, he started to shuffle further down the mattress, to rest his head on the pillow, dragging the kid with him. Stuart didn’t give any type of reluctance or complaint as the drunken man held him. It was nice, being held like that. It wasn’t long until they were both asleep.


	8. Pills

Muds was grouchy when they woke up. Which Stuart wasn’t at all surprised about, but he didn’t even need past experience to know making a comment on the fact wouldn’t have been a good idea.

It was really nice though, in Stu’s opinion, waking up in the man’s arms. The few minutes before the other woke was like being in a fairy tale, if fairy tales were about gay people who ran away from home and men who drank too much the night before. It was even nice when Muds first woke up, snuggling against the boy for a moment in a way that just felt right… until Stuart was suddenly pushed away with a snarl, “Get the fuck off me!”

Stu didn’t say anything back, just jumped out of bed and walked quickly to the bathroom. He didn’t feel right, not like a sickly feeling or what he imagines a hangover would feel like, he just didn’t feel like himself. More muted and slow. He knew he didn’t get enough sleep the night before to be a hundred percent, but that didn’t seem like it either.

Once done in the bathroom, he found Muds placing the pile of extra pillows they were given last night in a line in the middle of the bed. Stu picked up the last two and handed them to the man. “What you doing?” He asked, careful to keep his tone soft and sleepy sounding, hoping that Murdoc didn’t snap at him for asking questions.

It only half worked as the man rolled his eyes, moving the sheets around so both sides were equally unmade, “What does it look like? I’m putting a divide in the bed." Stu bit his lip, that answer not answering his questions, but he was reluctant to ask anymore. Muds noticed the way the boy was holding back and sighed. “Do you know what would happen to you if people found out you slept in my arms last night?” Stuart shook his head in response, still nibbling at his lip. “They would arrest ya, Bluebird. Without a second thought. You would spend the rest of your life behind bars, or worse, they would try and make you straight. There are only a few placing in this hell-forsaken country where you are welcome, and even then you best be discreet,” Murdoc told Stuart this with a shake of the head, like he didn’t agree with the reality.

The boy kicked his feet against the ground lightly, looking at them with a hurt expression. “Oh.” Stuart knew it wasn’t okay to be a homosexual, but he didn’t realise you could actually get put away for it.

Muds put his hands on the boy’s arms, the height difference meaning he didn’t need to move much to look at Stu’s downturned face. “It’s alright Bluebird, we just got to be careful, yeah?” The boy smiled a little in response, not missing the usage of the word ‘we’. “Get dressed then, I want to leave here before they realise I drank their tequila, that shit’s rare.”

At the realisation that Muds was incorrect in both of his attempts at naming the beverage last night, Stuart let out a little laugh, but this only caused him to get hit on the arm, Muds glaring at him, “What’s so funny? I told you to get dressed.”

Not being able to stop the smile, Stuart moved to get his clothes up together. “Sure Muds.” They both dressed quickly, backs to each other and silent. Stuart couldn’t help but peak at the man though, every chance he got without being obvious. His cheeks were pink and his smile was shy, he was sure he looked like a little girl in his mannerisms, but he didn’t care. 

Once dressed they headed back to the car. The older woman that owned the B&B apologised for their having to share a bed and thanked them for their generous tip. Stuart didn’t know what to say, but Murdoc put on a warm smile, saying “Oh it’s no problem, the pillows worked fantastically. Sorry again for the late hour we arrived, luv.” The older woman giggled at the charm, waving them goodbye as the pair got into the car.

The two were quiet as they started back on their journey to Reading, the late morning sun made the countryside a lot more interesting to look at then last night. The radio was no longer playing the rock and roll that it had the night before, now it was some talk show about how woman have been thinking they are all high and mighty just because they had something to do in the war. Stuart grew bored of the old men speaking bullshit so turned the station over. Muds didn’t seem to mind, but he did play more attention to what the kid was doing to his radio.

After flicking through the stations for a while, Stuart frowned, not finding anything he wanted to listen to. “Can I just turn it off?” He asked, looking at Muds with a fed-up expression.

The man shook his head. “Can’t drive without background noise.” Stu rolled his eyes; the car was making enough background noise on its own.

Sighing, the boy lent back into his seat, crossing his arms lightly. “We could try talking?” He suggested, putting his feet up on the dash, only for Murdoc to hit his legs and then remove them. It hurt, the boy wouldn’t be surprised if they bruised.

“Talk about what? I think we are pretty done set on each other.” Muds replied, placing his hands back on the steering wheel.

Stu laughed a little dryly at this. “We don’t actually know much about each other at all Muds.”

The man also laughed. “Oh, I know a lot about you Stuart. I’m sure you know a lot about me too if you thought about it, y’know, probably not as much as I know about you though. But I’m more closed off then you are.” Stu frowned at the confidence Murdoc said this in, shifting slightly at the idea of him knowing as much as he seemed to claim.

However, it did cause Stuart to think about what he knows about Muds. He knew he was in Crawley for ‘business’ but he didn’t know what type. It seemed to be the same reason they were going to Reading. He knew the man like women, had since he was seven, but he was also sure Muds liked Stu as well. He had disappeared the day after they met at the cafe, where he was chatting up that girl with brown hair… Thinking back was starting to give the boy a headache, and he went to get his pill bottle from his pocket. Only it wasn’t there.

Panic caused Stuart to jolt up, startling at Muds with wide eyes. “I left my pills in the B&B.” The panic was clear in his voice as he hoped that they would stop and go back for them.

Murdoc didn’t stop the car though, he half smiled, “Relax Bluebird, I’ve got them.” He reassured, reaching into his inside pocket to pull out the opaque plastic tube. “Why? You need one?” The question was asked in a light tone, paired with a raise of his eyebrow.

Although he was no longer panicking about leaving the bottle at the B&B, Stu felt the blood rush out of him seeing Murdoc had it, and wasn’t just handing it over. “Y-yeah.” Stuart reached forward to take the bottle out of the man's hand, but Murdoc just moved it out of his reach.

Stuart looked at Muds in shock at this, not really knowing what was happening. Murdoc looked at him back, shifting his eyebrows as though to prompt the kid to say something. Stuart still didn’t understand.

This caused the man to let out an annoyed sigh, the light tone dropped and his prompting face now one of frustration. “You need to ask, Stuart.” It was thought he was dealing with a toddler that wasn’t understanding simple social cues.

The boy moved back, staring out of the windshield in shock. He shouldn’t have to ask for them, he was an adult and those pills were his prescription. Shaking his head in disbelief, Stu turned to frown at Muds. “No. I don’t.”

Murdoc lost his temper at that, stopping the car just like last time they had argued, but Stuart was more awake this time and didn’t jolt forward as much. Muds was getting out the car, and the boy got out after him, followed him over the fence he had jumped to go into a field.

Due to having longer legs, it didn’t take much effort to catch up with the man who was walking with purpose. A small river came into view and Stuart had briefly wondered if Muds had known it was there when they stopped. But that thought didn’t last long as he felt a fist hit his face.

The suddenness made him go down more than the blow. The boy’s hands came up to try and stop the instant throbbing that travelled throughout his head, the small headache suddenly becoming a full-on migraine. He didn’t make any move to get up, too busy focusing on stopping the world from spinning and/or throwing up.

Murdoc stood over him, the bottle still in his hand, a little surprised at himself for reacting that way. “Stuart.” He said, watching the boy with narrowed eyes.

Stu wasn’t able to respond, but he did look up at the man, through black dots and tears. Murdoc knelt in front of him, taking the boy's face in one of his hands. Despite the soft touch, it sent another wave of pain through Stu’s head, this made him wince, but he didn’t try and move away. With his thumb, Muds whipped the tears from under the boy’s eyes. His face softening to a much more caring one. “You need to ask, Bluebird.” The whisper rang in Stuart's ears like they were plaguing his brain.

He still didn’t want to. It wasn’t fair, but he also didn’t have a choice. Murdoc was clearly planning on throwing them in the river, and he still might despite the concern he is showing the boy. His voice was so weak sounding, Stuart hated himself, “Please Murdoc, can I have me pills?” Stu’s eyes shut, not wanted to see into those mismatched ones anymore, but he moved his head more into the others hand, wanting the support and feeling it was providing.

Murdoc sighed sadly, stroking the boy’s face more at the submissive need of it. “Of course you can Stuart. I’m sorry I hurt you.” Offering up the bottle in his free hand, Stu took it from him, hesitating slightly, like he was scared the man was just going to yank it away again. Murdoc wouldn’t lie if asked, he did contemplate throwing them in anyway, but he didn’t. Instead, he watched Stuart take his pills with caring eyes, and then held his hand open to get them back.

Once again Stuart hesitated, but Muds gave him a flash of a warning look and the boy handed them to him no problem. “There, that wasn’t so bad now was it Bluebird?” He asked, staying in the intimate way they were sat, stroking the others cheek as they waited for the pills to take effect.

Stuart frowned, once he was able too, but he didn’t pull away from the comforting hand that framed his aching face. “You ‘it me.” His tearful blue eyes searched the mans for… well, any sort of emotion that wasn’t the thick care-for-you facade. Instead, he just saw it getting thicker.

“I didn’t mean to do that Bluebird, honestly. It’s just, well I know you are prone to overdoses, I’m scared if you’re in control of them, that it will happen again.” Murdoc moved forward, resting his forehead on the other’s, being careful to be light.

Stu can’t remember telling Muds about the near overdoses, but he guessed he must have forgotten about mentioning it. How else would he know? The boy could understand the others concern now, that’s why his mother held onto them after all. Nodding in acceptance to Murdoc’s lie, he sat still for a moment, enjoying their contact. He thought about how easy it would be to kiss the other man, he only needed to lift his chin, just a little, and their lips would touch.

He didn’t mean to act out his thought, and once their lips touched, Stu pulled away in surprise and embarrassment, his brain going blank at the overwhelming number of emotions he suddenly felt. He should be angry at Muds for hitting him, but he also loved him for caring and the kiss, although very short-lived, was nice. He made a small noise of nothingness, opening his eyes just in time to see Muds evil little smirk before they were kissing again. Something in Stuart melted.


	9. Reflection and Cake

Murdoc wrapped an arm around the boy’s waist and guided him back to the car. Stuart had stopped crying and was holding the side of his face with a precarious touch, hoping it wasn’t as bad as it felt. He was silent the rest of the car drive. After a while Muds started to ramble about something on the radio, but it was easy to tune out and Stu simply nodded every time the other gestured towards him.

He didn’t know what he should be thinking, or what he should feel towards Murdoc now. But the man had seemingly gone back to normal, like once they had gotten in the car he forgot about hitting the boy, or the kiss that followed.

Once they were in Reading, they looked for some type of temporary accommodation. Stuart pointed out a few he saw, but Muds dismissed them, giving reasons like they were too close to the centre, or they were too big/small. He decided on a guest house near a country park and the two entered silently.

Murdoc booked them a twin room as Stuart shied behind him, feeling like a sore thumb as the people around kept giving him looks. In reality, he was just on edge, self-conscious. The building was essentially a large home, with warm woods and bright colours. The boy wondered how long they would be staying here.

Their room was spacious, with high windows and wood floors. A large mirror hung over the dresser and Stu, once he put his things down, stood in front of it to inspect the light purple bruise that had developed over his cheekbone. He was thankful it wasn’t his eye.

Muds was watching him from across the room, looking at the boy with narrowed eyes in the reflection. “You alright there, Bluebird?” He wasn’t really asking, and Stuart nodded in response, knowing that was the reaction Murdoc wanted. Stu turned around, looking at Muds fully as he leaned on the dresser behind him. He still felt tired, despite the sleep night before, he felt drained in more ways than one. The man got out two cigarettes, tapping them on the box as he spoke again, “I need to go deal with something. You can come with if you want.”

Stu wasn’t sure what he wanted as a response to this, and he stayed quiet until he could work out the desired response. The man was relaxed, placing the two cigarettes in his mouth, and lighting them without any sign of impatience or hidden frustration. The boy decided to test an honest answer, “Can I stay here?”

Murdoc nodded, and Stu lets go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding, taking the offered cigarette. “Sure thing. I’ll be back later, try not to draw any attention to yourself.” With that, Muds leaned into the boy’s space, pecking him on the bruised cheek before leaving.

It took longer then Stuart would like to admit for him to move again, tapping the fag’s ash in an ashtray and walking into the bathroom. He was grateful to be left alone, needing to process everything that had happened without Muds being there to add to it or confuse him. Without acknowledging what he was doing, he placed the plug in the bath and turned the hot water tap on.

He couldn’t think, the thoughts wouldn’t come for him to think about them. He knew he needed to, he knew that he should take this time to think and process. But just couldn’t.

The boy sank to the floor, his head resting on his knees as he lent against the tub. He smoked on the cigarette like it had the answers, the white smoke hiding him from his problems. Part of him wanted Muds to come back, to wrap him in his arms again. Another part knew the man was the very cause he needed to be held. It was very conflicting.

He contemplated just going home. Despite the length of the journey, he wasn’t that far. He doubted there would be too many questions as well, he was only gone the night.  _He was only gone the night._  It felt like forever ago that he had left home, but it’s been less than a day. All this happened in less than a day and Stuart was already such a mess. He felt sick.

Getting up, he turned off the water, stripped and sank into the steaming liquid. The cigarette butt was put out on the porcelain.

What would happen if he went home? David was sure to have more to say, probably making Stu feel unwelcome in the house. He doubted they would still invite his grandparents over, the tensions would be too high.

Stuart sank under the water, he had forgotten it was his birthday. This isn’t what he imagined being sixteen would be like. He knew it would be shit, but he didn’t think he would be questioning his entire life path in a bathtub in Reading with a man he ran off with doing god knows what god knows where.

It has only been a day though. Surely he should give this more of a chance before deciding anything. The boy was thankful he was able to take the pills earlier, his head would be killing him by now without them.

He came back to the surface with a large gasp, the water spilling over with the movement. Stuart continued to take deep breaths as he shook his head. This was ridiculous, of course it was way too soon to be thinking like this. He remembers what Rachel said when she broke up with him, “If something is too good at the start, it sets the standards too high for later.” This seemed to be the opposite of that problem.

Murdoc clearly had issues, what with that thing he said about his dad and the short temper, Stuart just had to work with it. The fact he was on his toes now, meant he was learning the man’s quirks quickly. He’d never been a fast learner and the thought of this made the boy smile. Maybe this is where he needed to be? He was sure over time he could be beneficial to Muds in some way, after all he did come back for him. And he must have realised Stu wanted to be left alone for a while just now, that’s why he was given the option of staying. Muds must be learning his quirks as well.

Realising this made Stuart glow, and he finished his bath without another doubting thought. He wondered what he should do now, what with Murdoc not being there. He wondered out of the room to explore the guest house.

The boy found a bookcase with a sign that books were to be returned before checkout. But seeming as though there was no reinforcement to this, he doubted they got many back. Stu struggled reading, which was one of the reasons the nuns at school got so frustrated at him, he had a vocabulary like no-one, but he wasn’t able to write the words down or read them, and not many conversations required him to use words like ‘melancholy’ or ‘polyphonic’. Still, he picked one at random and searched for somewhere he could snatch a cuppa.

With a book under his arm and mug in hand, Stuart felt much better. He made his way back to the room and settled on one of the beds, kicking his shoes off and propping up the pillows. The book was of no interest to him, being about some kid in New York just as the city was being built around her. At some point, Stu nodded off, book forgotten beside him.

* * *

 When Stuart woke a while later, Murdoc was back, sat on the other bed and writing in a small leather-bound book. Stu was still as he watched the other for a moment. The man’s lips moved as he wrote, mouthing out what he was putting down, Stuart wondered how easy it might be to read lips, but after trying he realised it was actually really difficult so gave up. He had opened a window, but it seemed to do nothing to the smoke that was building from his cigarette.

Not being able to keep still any longer, Stuart rubbed his eyes, catching the man’s attention. “Why didn’t you wake me?” He asked with a yawn.

Muds smiled fondly at the boy. “You needed the sleep.” He put the book in the bag beside his feet before getting up, “I got you a cake.” He walked to the dresser and Stuart noticed the small box on top of it. “I did light candles before coming in, but, well seeing as you were asleep I put them out.” He laughed a little dryly, picking up the box. “I can light them again if ya want, but I ain’t singing.”

Stuart smiled brightly, caught off guard by the gesture. “Nah, it’s fine.” Muds sat on the side of the bed, holding out the cake, it was small with plain white icing, perfect two of them to share it. “Thank you.” He could feel his cheeks going red, looking form the cake to the man.

It felt only natural to kiss him, words couldn’t have expressed the warmth he felt, even with his wide vocabulary. The boy was happy to feel Muds kissing him back, their lips moving in unison until the man pulled away, if it was up to Stu, he wouldn’t have stopped.

Muds pulled a switchblade from one of his pockets (he had many more then the outfit let on), “Do you want some now?” He asked, not waiting for the boy’s nod to cut into the soft sponge. He cut the small cake into four, Stu taking one of the slices before he put the box down and took one for himself.  Stuart was more careful about crumbs then the other. “So, what you get up to when I wasn’t here?” Muds asked between bites.

Stuart frowned lightly in thought, not knowing what to say that wasn’t, “I had a bit of a breakdown, but I’m fine now.” He took his time to swallow the cake, Muds giving him a suspicious look as to why the answer was taking so long. “I had a bath, I was planning on reading but, I guess I was too tired.” He let out a weak laugh. Muds let out a hum of acknowledgement, his eyes making Stu feel guilty for something he hasn’t done. The boy was quick to move the conversation on, “What about you? Get what you wanted to do done?”

This distracted the man, “Uh, yeah I guess. They didn’t really have what I wanted in return though,” he rolled his eyes as though this was typical. “Think we might be here a while, sorry Stu.” He finished with a light sign.

“Oh, that’s no issue.” Stu was quick to reassure, reaching out to put his hand on the others, cake momentarily forgotten about, “I’m alright staying here, as long as you need.”

Murdoc smiled brightly, turning his hand to hold the boys. “Thanks, Bluebird. Knew you would understand.” They smiled at each other for a moment before Stu went back to eating his cake.

Another thought came to Stu’s mind and seeing as they were getting along so well right now, he didn’t hesitate to ask it. “What is it you do exactly?” His face was full of curiosity and fascination as he looked back up at the man.

Muds were silent for a moment, frowning and looking away from the boy. “Uh… y’know, business.”

That answer was pathetic, especially coming from someone like Muds, who was clearly quick on his feet when it came to answering questions like this. Stuart raised an eyebrow, smirking in humour, “Business? If I’m going to stay with ya, I should probably know what type.”

The man signed, “I transport stuff for people. That’s all you need to know, alright kid?” This only brought up more questions, but Muds was clearly done talking about it, his tone becoming sharp and pulling his pack out.

Stuarts playful demeanour was quickly dropped, and his eyes turned down as he finished his cake quickly. He knew not to push it. “Thanks again for the cake Muds.” The man only grumbled in response as he lit up.

After taking a drag he passed it to Stu, reaching out to fetch something from his bag. He pulled out a bottle and a set of cans, “Sorry we can’t go out to celebrate mate, but you don’t have ID and the bouncers here don’t like me.” He passed the cans to Stu, taking back the cigarette. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t get smashed anyway.” He laughed like he had last night, in a raunchy way that made Stuart's skin crawl.

Stuart frowned at the cans. “Why do we have to get smashed?” He asked, reading the label; Double Dimond beer.

Murdoc gave him a weird look, like the boy just said he would fuck his nan for a fiver. He opened up the bottle and drank from it, burping slightly before voicing his concern, “You’ve drank before, right?”

The boy suddenly felt embarrassed at his inexperience, “Well, you did pour some of that stuff you were drinking last night down me throat.”

Muds laughed slightly at his past self, “But not before then? Well, they say if you’re gonna do something for the first time, do it with someone who has experience.” He took the cans from the boy, pulling two out of the plastic and opened them, handing another one to the boy. “This tastes like piss but the more you drink the better it gets,” he held the can up, and Stuart knocked his against it in a Cheers, “Happy Birthday Bluebird.” The boy cringed as he took a deep drink from the can. Muds was right, it did taste like piss.


	10. Happy Birthday Bluebird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone that I'm going to have to see in real life, don't read this. Just skip this chapter. It's not a vital part and you will probably never look at me the same way.
> 
> Thanks,   
> Win

It didn’t take much for the boy to become drunk. The two started to chat about all the dumb stuff Stuart got up to with the boys, Muds listening and chuckling along, but never making comment on his own experiences.

They got on the topic after Murdoc started to tease him about being a stiff, and Stuart was quick to defend himself, explaining that his mates have drank, he just never joined in. This started them on a discussion about how many times Stuart has taken too many drugs, how he thought being drunk would be just as unpleasant. This led on to how one of Rachel’s friends got her hands on some marijuana, and he shared it with the group at a house party. It wasn’t enough to affect the boy, but it was funny to see how it changed the others.

Murdoc asked who Rachel was and Stu explained she was his ex-girlfriend, that if he stayed at home, they would have probably gotten married later in life if she didn’t find someone else by then. “You shag her?” The man asked, frowning slightly as he relit the fag the two was passing between them, it was a roll up and Stu wasn’t convinced it was just tobacco. But he had already told that story and the drink was making him feel confident, so he just went along with it. The window was still open so it’s not like it would smoke the place out enough to go under the door.

Stuart's cheeks went red for what must have been the thousandth time this conversation. “Yeah, but it was pretty shit, took three attempts to actually do it right,” the drink was making him more honest than he had intended, and the boy giggled slightly, biting his lip in embarrassment.

The side of Muds mouth smirked at this, “At least you were shit together, ‘eh.” Stu looked up at Muds and giggled again. At some point in the drinking they had moved, so now the man was up against the pillows with the boy against his side, his head on the other's shoulder. The cans were finished ages ago and they were drinking the rum together, Murdoc was careful not to pass the bottle to the kid too often.

As they looked at each other through beer goggles and smoke, Stu just couldn’t get over how nice the two males time together has been, and leaned up to put his lips to Muds’ again. But Stu wasn’t planning on letting the man pull away this time, placing his hand on the stubbled cheek as a non-aggressive lock-in. Murdoc, who was nowhere near as drunk as the boy, moved them both, rolling Stu on his back and leaning over him, deepening the kiss.

Stuart smiled, thinking this was confirmation that Muds had no intention of pulling away. Really, the man just wanted to put out the fag and leave the bottle somewhere the other wasn’t going to drunkenly knock it, but couldn’t break away due to the hand that was now holding his face. Well, he could have, but that would have hurt the boy’s feelings and ruined all his hard work, so he rolled them over and deepened the kiss instead.

Stu’s free hand trailed up the man’s front, he still had on his jacket and the boy tugged on the thick material. Muds got the message and slipped it off, breaking the kiss momentarily, only to have to boy sit up and needily kiss him again, their tongues intertwining in his mouth.

This caught the man off guard, grabbing Stu by the hip tightly to stop him from knocking them over. But Stu didn’t seem to notice the rough touch, his hands starting to tug at the other's shirt. Murdoc frowned, pushing the boy back forcefully, taking control of the situation.

Stuart pouted a little at the rejection, looking at Muds with big blue puppy eyes. The man resumed the kiss, their tongues tangling in the boy's mouth this time as he leant back over him. Stu’s hands tried again at the shirt, but Muds growled a little, breaking the kiss again and leaning back up. “Take yours off first.” He said, standing up from the bed.

The boy panicked a little at seeing the man move out of the situation, but did as he was told and unbuttoned his shirt. Murdoc closed the window and the curtains before walking over to the room's door. Stu watched him with confused eyes as he picked up his towel from earlier and rolled it up. Muds put the towel over the gap under the door and then checked it was locked. After he was satisfied, the man turned back to the bed, pulling his shirt off as well. “I’m not going down for this of all things.” He mumbled in a half explanation, crawling back on the bed.

Before Stu could think about what that meant, he was being kissed again. Muds used his legs to knock the other's knees open, so he could rest between them. The boy was more than happy to comply, the kiss becoming messy because he was trying to deepen it further. This only caused the man to pull away again, seeming confused at Stu’s desperation. Stuart giggled a little, his drunken state making him loopy, “Sorry, Murdoc,” he apologised, biting his lip with a large grin. 

Murdoc smiled back, shaking his head before kissing the boy lightly, pulling away just as Stu moved to latch on again. He kissed the boy’s bruised cheek. “Purple looks good on you Bluebird,” he whispered as he continued to place light kisses over his jaw and neck. Stu giggled again, but it wasn’t clear if it was due to the comment or a ticklish neck, either way, he turned his head to give the man a larger surface to place the kisses.

Being deliberately slow as a little redemption for being so desperate, Muds kissed his way down Stu’s hairless chest. It was clear the boy was getting impatient, his fingers tangled in the raven-black hair and legs fidgeting either side of the man. But the desired effect was being achieved and by taking his time, Murdoc was able to note which parts of the other's body flinched and twitched, which areas made Stuart’s breath hitch or his bottom lip go between his teeth.

Once he reached the boy's navel, he put Stu’s trouser waistband between his teeth, as though he was going to open up the button with his mouth, and looked up at Stu with a teasing look. The boy, by this point, was watching him with a gaped mouth, his eyes half-lidded and breath held. Murdoc’s smirk widened as he let go, the boy letting go of his breath with a disappointed whine.

Chuckling, Muds connected their lips again. Stu was being a lot less needy now, his hands back on the man’s chest. His nails scratched the others front slightly, and his hips jerked, the slow pace not to the kids liking. Murdoc’s hand moved to sit on Stuart’s inner thigh, just below his already hard cock. Braking from the kiss he whispered in his ear, “You want me to undo them?” He asked, fingers brushing over the zipper.

Stuart nodded vigorously in response. Muds frowned deeply at this, pulling back from the boy’s ear, his hand tightly squeezing his thigh. Stu hissed at the sudden pain, his hands flashing over Muds’, trying to pull it away. “I’m going to ask again Stuart. Do you want me to undo them?”

Stu pressed his lips together, his eyes squeezing closed at the tightness of the hold the man had. “Yes Murdoc.” His reply was strained, but his relief at being released actually made him moan out a little. Before he had time to process anything, Muds lips were back on his, one hand on his covered dick and the other undoing the button. He moaned at the touch, not being able to help the roll of his hips.

The button and the zipper now undone, Stu scrambled to get the clothing off. Muds let him, leaning out of the way of the kicking legs. There was a red mark where the hand was just fastened, but Stu no longer seemed to care about that, going in to kiss Murdoc once again, grabbing his face with both hands. He let the boy have control for a moment, leaning back to a sitting position, the boy sitting on his lap with his legs wrapped around him.

After letting the boy kiss away the pain, Muds grew impatient and thrusted up harshly. This caught the boy’s attention and, letting out a small whimpered moan, he moved his hands down to rest on the man's crotch. Muds was halfway through letting out a grunt when he realised the boy had frozen on top of him.

He pulled back, glaring at the kid for stopping. “Something wrong, Bluebird?” Stuart looked down, his face going bright red, not knowing how to respond.

Muds grabbed the other’s hands purposefully, moving them so they rubbed over the fabric. Stu flinched slightly. “Answer me when I ask you a question, Stuart.” The man was losing his temper quickly, and Stuart panicked about what that would entail given their situation. His breath and heart started to quicken and, in a sudden burst of panic, kissed the other as he ground his erection into the others crotch, their hands being pushed out of the way.

Despite the deep moan that came from the man beneath him, this wasn’t the right response and Stuart was pulled over roughly. His chest was pushed in the mattress and a knee on his back pinned him down. It hurt, and Stu whimpered to let the other know this. Muds removed his own trousers, getting off the boy for a blissful moment to pull the tight fabric off his leg, only to place it back down with even more force.

Stuart felt a sharp pain spread throughout his brain as a hand pulled his head up with a fist full of hair, he let out a sound that expressed this, but the man didn’t let go. “When I ask a question, I expect you to answer,” Murdoc whispered into his ear in a threatening voice.

The boy squeezed his eyes shut, the alcohol caused him to choke up a dry cry. He thought that Muds mustn’t realise how much pain he was causing him. But he knew there was only one thing that would get this to be over, and what was to simply submit, “Yes Murdoc.”

The man pulled tighter and Stuart had to hold back a scream. “So, why didn’t you answer me when I asked if something was wrong?” He essentially spat this in Stu’s ear.

“I-I don’t know.” Stu sputtered out quickly, “I don’t know why I stopped.” And it was the truth, he didn’t know why he had stopped, one moment there was nothing he wanted more than to feel Murdoc’s skin, and the next, nothing. Maybe it was the realisation of what was happening.

Murdoc let go of the boy’s hair and watched as his hands came up to cradle his head. “Well, you seemed real fucking eager before.” He got off Stu, sitting down on the side of the bed, reaching down to grab his jacket.

Stuart didn’t move, feeling dizzy with the drunk migraine. “Can-“ he swallowed, turning his head so he wasn’t speaking into the mattress. “Can I have my pill’s Muds?” Murdoc grunted around his fag, pulling out the pill bottle and tossing it next to the boy, he handed over the bottle as well before laying on his back, legs draping over Stu’s.

The boy took a few out and put them in his hand, the number was indistinguishable in his state but he knew it mustn’t be many. He took them with a large swig of the rum. After not drinking it for a while it burned his throat. He drank some more as he sat up in a cautious manner, twisting his legs the right way under the man's

The two watched each other, Stu drinking and Muds smoking. The pills dimmed down the migraine around the time Murdoc finished his cigarette, the man taking the bottle and downing a large amount of what was left.

Once he put the bottle down, the boy was on him again, placing kisses over and around his unresponsive mouth. Despite not engaging with the kissing, he slipped Stu back onto his lap, this time hands were quick to touch him through the fabric. Murdoc groaned, moving his head up, enjoying the moment, Stuart continued to kiss and lightly suck his neck and collar bone, the string that held the upside-down cross.

The man’s member seemed to have hardened since the last time Stu had touched it, but he was quick to play that off as a miss memory. It needed more work then the teenagers, but Stuart rubbed the mussel and kissed Muds neck until he was mostly hard. The boy would have continued like that until the other came, just enjoying the closeness, the contact. But Murdoc stopped him, taking his wrists in his hand, and kissing his mouth.

“Lay down, Bluebird,” he instructed, and Stuart followed, rolling off his lap and back onto his back, biting his lip and watching Muds move back between his legs with a small smile. The earlier mishap already forgotten about and the two picking up where they left off. Although Stuart had lost some of his excitement, due to his age it only took about two strokes of Murdoc’s hand for him to be at full mast again. Murdoc smiled at this, remembering when it was that easy for him, and planted a kiss on the boy’s navel, one of the areas that made him gasp before.

He pulled off the other's underwear and licked his member lightly. Stuart moaned loudly at the feeling, and this resulted in a lot of pain on his kneecap. Jerking into a sitting position, he had wide eyes, silently questioning what he had done now.

“You need to keep quiet. Remember what would happen if someone was to see us sleeping together? Now imagine what would happen if they found us like this.” Murdoc whispered, no anger in his voice. If anything there was a small tinge of panic. Hearing that in his voice made Stuarts blood run cold. The man must have noticed the change in him because he let go of the knee and instead placed his hand on the boy’s cock. “It will be fine as long as you don’t make as any noise, can you do that Bluebird.”

Stuart nodded, “Yeah Muds, I’ll try and keep quiet.” Murdoc smiled fondly, and Stu smiled back, lying back down as Muds licked his erection again, this time moaning through closed lips.

When Stu felt Muds tongue over his entrance, however, the moan was a lot more difficult to keep in, his hands coming up to cover his mouth. Muds smirked wickedly at that, and although he knew it would be him on the line if the boy couldn’t keep quiet, seeing him struggle so much was humorous to the man. He licked the ring of mussel again, and Stu’s leg lightly kicked his shoulder as he twitched under his attempt at keeping a moan in.

Muds chuckled, but stopped it, spitting on the hole instead and used a finger to massage the mussel. His other hand went down to his own erection. “You ever finger yourself Bluebird?” Seeming as the boy wasn’t confused or flinching away, he supposed he must have had some experience.

“A, uh, a couple of times yeah.” Stu's panting breath made it difficult to speak, his eyes shut, focusing on the moment and the need to keep quiet.

Murdoc hummed at that response. “Suppose it was when you realised you liked boys?”

Stuart shook his head, “No, since I started to masturbate.” Shaking his head made the boy feel woozy… he swallowed, not wanted to stop what was going to happen, but he knew that feeling.

Murdoc was surprised to hear that. He didn’t know people instinctually do that to themselves, but every day is a learning day. Upon learning this though, he was less cautious about prepping the boy, getting more saliva, and going straight in with two careful fingers. Stuart took them without any issue. Muds wondered when the last time he’d done this to himself.

Stu’s breath hitched a little as he clenched around the fingers within him, sucking on his lip. It was different, not being in control of this situation. Murdoc was much slower than the boy, not just in the prep, but in everything. It was difficult to keep patient, but he was scared that speaking up about it will only push the man away, which was the opposite of what he wanted.

His hand moved down to slowly pump his dick, for something to do if anything. But Muds slapped his hand away, adding a third finger. Stu had to suck in a breath, his hips thrusting up unintentionally. This made the man chuckle, and Stu got up on his arms to look at him. His cock twitched when he realised he was jurking off in time to his fingers movements.

A giggle escaped the boy's lips, the last part of his more sober brain told him to stop this and go throw up the pills. Instead, he reached for the rum bottle.

Murdoc lifted an eyebrow but didn’t stop him, didn’t know he should. Stuart gulped down some of the nasty tasting drink, shaking his head and smiling lopsidedly at Murdoc. The man took the bottle off him and finished it before standing and kissing the boy deeply.

He spat the kisses extra saliva into his hand and coated his cock, then dribbled into the boys slightly gapped hole and ran his finger around the rim, making sure it was coated. Stuart moaned at this, his head falling back in a slack manner, Muds frowned lightly and held the boy up in his arms. They kissed a little more before Murdoc pushed the tip of his erection into the hole. The boy started to make a loud noise, but Murdoc muffled it with his mouth. Biting his tongue in punishment, this only caused Stu to try and flinch away, pushing the dick further in.

Despite not being unfamiliar to the feeling of something in his ass, Stuart has never felt full before. With each inch he took of the man, his body would try and close the mussel being stretched, and the prevention of this made his dick twitch in a way he had never felt before.

When Murdoc started to move, it was a whole new feeling, and he was grateful for Muds’ kiss being able to stop the sounds he was making being too loud. He wasn’t sure if the pleasure was from the other hitting his prostate or not, and he didn’t really care.

Stuart was moaning inconceivable nothingness into the man’s mouth, his brain putty from the drugs and alcohol, so much so that even if he wanted to tell Muds he was on the edge of passing out, he probably couldn’t.

He felt himself cum, but it wasn’t satisfactory, and the kiss ended, Murdoc said something that sounded like he was underwater. Stuart opened his eyes, unable to focus as he felt more pressure coming from his hips, but he was unable to identify which parts. He also wasn’t sure if he was able to breathe, or what was causing him to stop breathing if he couldn’t.

The boy shut his eyes, and let out some more inconceivable noises before something blacked him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to rewrite this one day please don't leave


	11. Abandonment

His skin was covered in purples, blacks, and blues. It hurt, aching in ways he was sure it shouldn’t. The porcelain was cold under his naked body as he tried to move from the stiff, cramped position he’s been in for who knows how long. He had no memory of what happened, the last thing he remembers was seeing Muds between his legs. But even that was foggy.

“Mum,” Stuart called weakly, his voice squeaky and rough. “Mum?” He called again, louder in hopes of the woman hearing through the walls. Stu used the side of the bath to pull himself up, blinking in an attempt to stop his eyes from stinging. The lights were off, but it was still too bright.

Looking around the guest house’s bathroom, he was hit with the reality that he wasn’t at home. His mum wasn’t coming to help him because she didn’t know where he was, Stuart tried not to think about it for too long. “Muds?” The boy called out instead. He tried to lift himself up to exit the metal confounds of the bath.

Stuart was able to swing his legs over the side, but had to take a moment before he was able to move again. He didn’t know how long he’s gone without any type of substance, but he was past the point of hungry and felt like he was going to faint every time he moved. “Murdoc?” He called again, although he didn’t know what the man was going to do to help, Stuart felt like he was a lost cause at this point.

With another burst of energy, Stu pushed himself out of the bath and onto the tiled floor of the bathroom. After collecting himself once again, he used the side of the sink and pulled himself into a stand. He lent on the sink, looking at his reflection in the mirror overhead.

His blue hair was matted, sticking out in all directions and his eyes had bags under them. The bruise on his cheek had almost faded, but it was now accompanied by deep purple marks over his throat. Stuart looked at them for a long time, not knowing what could have caused them. “Murdoc, ya there?” There was no response, and Stuart frowned sadly at his reflection.

Turning on the cold water faucet, Stu rinsed over his face, the cold waking him up a little more. He rinsed out his mouth, the dry bitter taste he woke up with was revolting, and then used the water to try and slick back his hair. As he was doing this, he noticed the bruises continued on his body. Spots on his arms and legs. The one on his upper thigh… Stu looked at that one for a long moment, narrowing his eyes,

“Murdoc?” He called a lot more bodily, a new wave of energy moving him out of the bathroom and into the main room. Both beds were made, Stuarts bag was placed neatly at the end of one of them. His watch and pill bottle were lined up on the side-table. That was all that was there. There was no sign of the man being there at all.

The boy, too distracted to care about modesty, walked to the window. The curtains were drawn, but the evening sun allowed enough light through them to see. Cracking the fabric open and looking out onto the small car park Stu’s world crumbled. There was no sign of the red car either.

He left without him.

Stuart fell to the floor, the lack of energy once again taking centre stage. He didn’t try and move, only crawled up into a ball, staring at the world around him with unfocused eyes.

How could this happen? How did he let this happen? The signs were there, he just didn’t pay attention to them. Stuart knew this was his own fault. Why did he go with a man he didn’t know? Just leaving like that. How could he think Muds cared?

These thoughts filed through the boy’s head, he was in such a state already the migraine just added to the dull pain. Every thought he thinks, he turned back on himself.

_This is because you are too much work. Because you took to many pills, because drank too much and fitted. Because of your self-inflicted bruises. Because you have caused nothing but arguments since the start. Because you made too much noise. Because you weren’t good enough._

Stuart was spiralling, the evening became night and the room was consumed by darkness. He needed to get up. No matter how much he thought about it, nothing will change.

He rolled onto his hands and knees, barely being able to craw to the nightstand to turn on the table light. He used the bed to stand up once again and walked slowly back to the bathroom. He cleaned himself up as much as he could, taking his time as to not faint. The smell of the provided soap made the boy gag, but he pushed forward. Once presentable, he plodded back to the bed and went into his bag. A long-sleeved shirt and trousers covered the bruises the boy credited to a fit, he laced up his shoes and then put on his jumper, the fitted feeling made him feel more together.

Now he was able to go outside in a shameless manner, Stuart thought about where he can get food. He moved to get his watch and stopped, spotting the bottle beside it. It was a bad idea to take more. The boy knew this. But a part of him wanted to anyway. Without thinking, his hand went past his watch and grabbed the pills. He opened the top and tipped the remaining out in his hand. There was nine left. Not being sure how many of the pills would be too many, Stuart wondered how many there were before last night.

Stuart contemplated taking the remaining pills. If only to know what would happen. It was only him now, so it’s not like someone else would have to deal with the consequences of his actions. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever taken that many before. This is also a fairly new prescription. Stu’s tolerance was high anyway, always taking two over the recommended one.

A noise outside the room pulled him out of the trance, he spilt them all back in the tube and put them down on the bed. The fuck was wrong with him?

Looking at the watch he learnt it was only around 8pm. Places should still be serving food, so that shouldn’t be an issue. What was an issue was deciding what happened after that. He had money, he’d made sure to bring all the cash he saved from Uncle Norm's Organ Emporium. Should he just go home? There was a train that would get him back to Crawley.

Or, he could go somewhere else. Just get on the next train to anywhere and start from scratch. People do that, he knows people just leave and start again, his mate’s mother’s brother did it. Muds did mention there were places that were more accepting of homosexuals. He could find one of them, live a quiet life

Stuart sighed heavily, he can think about this over dinner. The boy stood, grabbing up the rest of his things. He might as well sign out of the room, seeing as he wasn’t planning on going back.

After closing the door, Stu walked slowly towards the reception, the threat of collapsing high. He wasn’t looking around, too busy trying not to trip on the stairs, and so didn’t see Muds walking up them.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Stuart looked up too quickly, and spots formed in his vision. Murdoc was narrow-eyed and grimacing. It was clear where the kid was going, and Muds wasn’t happy about it.

Stuart’s face burnt up, embarrassed that he just spent hours thinking the man had left him. The boy stumbled as he tried to speak, looking like a deer in headlights, “I-I-I-“

“I-I-I,“ Murdoc mocked nastily, interrupting the boy from making up an excuse. “You were about to leave, that’s where you were going.” He grabbed the boys arm and pulled him back up the stairs, pausing to look if the corridor was clear before taking the stumbling kid back to the twin room. The man was a lot less careful once inside, and Stuart stumbled to the floor. It was clear in his voice that Murdoc would be yelling if they weren’t in a guest house, “You think you can just leave me, Stuart? What, did you think you would just slip out and hope I wouldn’t notice? That I wouldn’t find you?”

Having the tables turn on him made Stu feel worse. “No Muds!” He pleaded, looking up at the man from the ground, “I thought that’s what you did to me,” he didn’t think that he had any tears left as they built up in his eyes, “I couldn’t see any of your stuff, I thought I did something wrong.”

Murdoc’s face softened, he took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He walked over to the dresser, opening it to show his things folded inside. Stuart should have checked and if he could feel any worse then he would have. The boy was silent as Muds made his way back to him, crouching so they were more level.

It was clear he was still cross, but Stuart appreciated him trying to calm himself. “How could you think that?” Stu turned his head down in shame, his lips turning up every so slightly as he felt Muds’ hand run through his hair in a comforting way. “Are you really that insecure?”

Stuart’s eyes closed at the words. Clearly he was. “I’m sorry Muds, I-I don’t know what I was thinking.” He mumbled, shaking his head.

The man moved his hand, brushing the back of his fingers across Stu’s face, lifting his chin up slightly, forcing him to look at the man. “Bluebird, I will never just leave you like that.” Stuart smiled at the words, past doubts washed away with the simple statement. And it was true if Murdoc was going to leave the boy, he sure as hell wouldn’t leave him able to talk about it afterwards.

Now that was cleared up, Muds stood, looking down at the boy was a small smile. “Have you eaten anything Stu?” The kid shook his head, “Well come on then, you’ve been out for nearly two days, you need something in you.”


	12. Reading

A week and a half went by in the guest house. Murdoc would set off multiple times in a day, sometimes offering Stuart to come with him, sometimes not. The boy didn’t mind, finding better books to read. It was nice, spending the time alone, he didn’t think he would like it if it was to become the norm though.

Due to the lack of things for him to do, whenever Muds asked if he wanted to tag along he always said yes. These trips were normally to do things like shop, put fuel in the car, or any other chores that grown-ups do. Muds would get Stu to do most of these things and it was more him tagging along to these trips, making sure the kid did them right.

Other times, the man had longer car journeys and would invite Stuart for the company. The boy liked these trips the most because Murdoc tends to ramble when he drives. Most of it is just shit talking, but the man doesn’t really open up about anything, so the only way the boy can understand him is by breaking down those rambles. Which also gives him something to do in his free time. When they arrive, Muds tells Stu to stay in the car, which he also enjoys because that gives him the chance to fix the poor thing. He will find out an issue when the man is gone, and, if he’s in a good mood when he gets back, they will stop off at a mechanics and get the part to fix it.

They had a system in place and it was nice. One-time Muds came back to the room with a split lip and cracked knuckles, and Stu was able to help him clean up, he never found out what happened. In the evenings, they would have dinner or eat what they had laying around, Muds would drink, the amount determined by the type of day, and Stu would drink just enough to get tipsy. They would fuck. Sometimes they would just jerk each other off, or Muds would walk the boy through a blow job (something the man was very talented at) but most of the time Stu would get fucked by Muds.

It was surprising to the boy how high a sex drive the other had. He was also insanely good at self-restraint. Often when they were out, Muds would get this look in his eye, like he would want nothing more than to take Stu right there, but he never let any more of that desire out. It wasn’t just towards Stuart either, once he knew the look he noticed when Muds would look at females with it. Brown hair girls with small breast were the ones that got the look the most, second were women that looked like they could take him in a fight. The boy didn’t realise how jealous he was until he saw those looks directed at other people.

Stuart had a lot less self-discipline, and Murdoc would get annoyed at him, push him away harshly. It was his own fault, he needed to be more careful, he needed to stop forgetting when they were in public.

As time passed, Muds’ temper declined. Luckily, he was good at calming himself down, but Stuart was often thankful they were in a rented room with close neighbours. One morning, Stuart simply had to get up too quickly to set the man off, “It’s you that latch yourself on me at night. If you don’t want to be near me then you can sleep in the other bed.”

The boy was quick to apologise, it’s become his default reaction to most things now, “I’m sorry Muds, that’s not what I meant. I do like being near ya.” reaching out to place his hands on the other's chest, only for them to be pushed away.

“Piss off.” Muds reached for one of the bottles they shared last night, downing the remaining of the liquid. Stu sighed quietly, this was going to be a long day.

The boy washed and dressed, keeping clear of the man as much as the limited space could allow. The bruises that came from his birthday were nearly gone, the one on his face healed completely. Now they were faded, they were clearly not caused by him fitting. But Stu didn’t see it, Murdoc already insisting that they were indeed self-inflicted, that he couldn’t pin him down quick enough. They were complimented a lot, and despite the weirdness, Stu loved the attention, and so was sad to see them fade.

Now was no different, and Muds watched as he dressed, Stuart consciously pulling on his clothes in a way that exposed the most bruised parts the longest. He didn’t know what he was going to do once they faded, he hoped Muds didn’t think him less attractive.

 “I need to go into the centre.” The man exclaimed after he had dressed. Stuart waited to be invited like he normally was, but Murdoc didn’t continue to speak.

Stu bit his lip, unsure if asking to come along would make Muds angry. Maybe he just presumed the boy would be going as well, so asking will make him seem insecure (which is one of Murdoc’s favourite words to patronise him with). After a moment of thought, he decided it best to ask and get barked at, then presume and get it wrong. “Can I come?” It was quiet, Stu didn’t want to have to ask.

Muds face flinched slightly, but he kept it neutral, “Uh, yeah, sure kid. If you want to.” That was unlike him. Murdoc was normally clear, or at least knew, what he wanted Stuart to do in a situation. For him to give the boy an option like this made the other uneasy about the right response.

He was glad he asked though, because if he presumed then Muds would have snapped at him either way. It was stressful, having to be so careful about what he says. Murdoc hasn’t hit him since that time near the river though, which Stuart was thankful for, but he knew the other wouldn’t hesitate to it again if pushed. “Yeah, I do. Thanks, Muds.”

The man nodded as he headed to the door, Stu quick to follow. They walked down to the car in silence, the receptionist smiling at Stuart as they went by. Due to Stuart being in the building so often, it was only a matter of time before he met some of the staff. The lady, Hellen, suggested books for the boy to read, even bringing in some of her own. She never asked any questions either, Stuart didn’t know how he would handle it if she did. 

Once in the car, Muds was more reckless, becoming irritated at the other drivers quicker than he normally did. Stu thought maybe distracting him a little would help, “What do you need in the centre?” He asked, keeping his tone chipper, offering a small smile.

It didn’t work, “None of your fucking business, Face Ache.” The boy flinched, regretting coming along. Neither spoke the rest of the drive, luckily the canter wasn’t very far.

When they got out, Muds glared at Stuart, like his very existence was causing him problems. Stu looked down in shame, wondering if he should excuse himself, make an excuse to meet up with the other later or just catch the bus back to the room. He was interrupted by Murdoc’s frustrated voice, “You coming with or not?”

“I’m coming, Murdoc.” Stu walked quickly to catch up with the man. He didn’t look up from his feet, knowing where they were going by following Muds’ Cuban Hills. He started to get antsy after a while of walking, seemingly in circles. But Stuart didn’t say anything, just followed the man blindly.

A yelling voice from one of the stores made him look up. Murdoc had come to a stop, and the two males stared in the direction of the raced voice, Stu a face of concern, Muds one of intrigue. There was another yell, and a young man walked out of one of the shops, “I’m done with you, you psycho bitch!”

A female followed him out, a smaller woman with tied up brown hair, tears running her make-up. Murdoc pulled Stuart around a corner, out of sight. Muds stood with his back to the wall in a casual manner, but Stu knew he was eavesdropping. “You would be nothing without me! I’ve given you everything!”

“You’re delusional, Tammy!”

“Fuck you! You know what, go! See what will happen!”

“Oh, I am! I’m not taking the blame for you anymore! Everyone will see just how messed up you are!”

“I’m messed up?! You’re the one that’s making me feel this way, you’re the one leaving! Yeah, that’s it, turn away! Walk off like the coward you are!”

The yelling stopped, and Muds turned to Stuart, shoving a hand full of change into his chest. He was speaking quickly, in a low voice, “Get the bus, I won’t be back tonight.” Before Stu could say anything back, the man had disappeared around the corner.

Stuart blinked, not knowing what just happened. His hand was full of Muds loose change, but where did he go? The boy looked around the corner, there was no sign of him… Or the girl… Did he go comfort her? She seemed in a really bad place, it sounded like she was threatening herself to keep the other person there. He hopes she’ll be okay.

Now he was alone, Stuart wondered what he was meant to do. He slipped the coins into his own pocket. Muds said to catch the bus, but where were the bus stops? After walking in a straight line for a while, he spotted a line of bus stops. He walked towards them, reading the timetables workout which one would be right. The problem is, he wasn’t sure where the guest house was.

An elderly woman noticed the boy struggling and offered her help. Stu tried to give as best a description of the guest house’s area, luckily for him, the woman was from an area close by, “You will need to catch the same bus as me, dear, I’ll tell you when you need to get off.”

Stuart smiled brightly, “Thank you very much, Ma’am.” He sat down on the bench next to her, and they continued to speak. The woman had just ordered a record player for her grandson’s sixteenth birthday. Stu said that was a swell gift, and he wished he’d gotten a record player for his sixteenth birthday.

The woman asked what he did get, seeming as he was clearly close to that age. But Stuart became instantly shut off, his smile fading. “Oh, I didn’t get all that much. Didn’t want anything.” It was a half-truth, and the elderly woman apologised for asking. This made Stuart feel bad for making the woman feel as though she needed to apologise, she wasn’t the person that ruined his birthday.

He changed the subject, mentioned that he was able to travel instead. The woman was clearly relieved at the idea the boy didn’t just get nothing for the milestone, and she mentioned how during the war, her husband was located in Paris for his thirtieth, before Hitler took it, and how she went over to spend the day with him. It was the last birthday she got to spend with him. Stuart gave his condolences.

The bus came after that, and the two got on. They didn’t talk as much on the vehicle, and then the woman told Stuart when he needed to get off. He waved the woman goodbye and then headed towards the guest house. Stu didn’t know what he was going to do about eating. He wondered why it would just be him tonight, and he felt a large amount of jealousy when he remembered the crying girl. Tammy. He instantly hated her.

He decided that he wasn’t hungry as he entered the building the two males were staying at. Hellen was still at the reception and greeted Stuart when he walked in. She asked if he was enjoying the book she lent him, and he confirmed that he was. It was taking him a while to get through it, it wasn’t very big, but it was quite difficult, and Stuart often found himself needing to re-read lines to understand what they meant. But the fact it was taking him so long was, in his opinion, a good thing.

Hellen asked where the man he was with earlier went, noticing if they go out together, they come in together. Stuart shifted on his feet uncomfortably and told her that he had caught the bus back, that Muds had caught up with a friend. It was another half-truth. Stuart has never been very good at lying, he wasn’t a quick enough thinker for that, but he was good at telling what he proceeds to be the truth or a version of the truth. It meant he very rarely out-right lied.

Noticing the boy had become awkward at the question, Hellen excused herself from the conversation. The boy headed up to the room. He was alone for the night. But what was he going to do?

He started to clean up a bit. They always had their ‘do not disturb’ sign up, Muds said it would just be extra pressure to think someone may come in at any moment, and Stu agreed. He didn’t want to have to be on guard about being caught with the man. There would have surely been raised eyebrows about their prolonged stay in the room together, that is, if Muds wasn’t flirting with the female staff every time Stu wasn’t with him. He would be lying if he said that was the reason for doing so.

Once the room was cleaned, Stuart wondered out to order a tea and a couple of biscuits. The man who handed them over, who also became a friendly acquaintance to, joked about how that best not be the teens' dinner. The boy laughed, not letting on that it would indeed be his dinner. It would be too awkward for him to go and get a meal on his own.

Instead, he headed back to the room and settled down with the book and his tea. He was there until the sky turned dark, half waiting for Muds to get back as that’s normally when he would stop reading. But Muds wasn’t coming back tonight.

Stuart still didn’t understand why, and his heart hurt at the idea of being alone. Memories of when he thought he’d been abandoned peg in his mind. He hadn’t taken many pills after that. He fears what will happen when he runs out. Taking one a day is stopping him from getting withdrawal, but it doesn’t stop his head from hurting. He’s also stopped counting them after he reached five. He really doesn’t want to know how close he is to being without. Once he had tried mentioning his concern to Muds, but the man just dismissed him as being paranoid, that he will be able to get more. But the boy isn’t sure how; his prescription is a blend.

He stops himself from thinking about it, that will lead to panic and panic leads to headaches, and headaches lead to migraines. If he sleeps, not only had he not needed to take any pills that day, but Muds will be back sooner.

Agreeing with himself that that was the best option, Stu got ready for bed. He has been sleeping naked because that’s what Muds does, and it’s nice to just roll over and sleep. But he’s always with the man when he sleeps as such, he’s never slept without anything on when it was just him. He dresses in his boxer shorts and vest, climbing into the bed the two normally share.

But he can’t sleep. It’s weird not having the others oddly hot skin to keep him warm, and jealousy was making him feel physically sick. Tammy. Fucking Tammy! Who the fuck even is that girl?! Was Murdoc even with her or was he with one of the other women he eye fucks? Stu knows they have never actually had a conversation about what they were, but they weren’t just fucking around. Were they? Was that even what Murdoc was doing? Maybe he wasn’t coming back for a different reason, maybe it was just Stu’s brain thinking of the worst-case scenario. Yeah, that’s it, Muds isn’t sleeping with anyone else, it’s just Stu being paranoid. Isn’t that what he keeps saying? That Stuart was insecure, paranoid, untrusting.

Once the boy realised that he was the problem and that Murdoc would never do anything like that to him, sleep came a lot quicker.


	13. Burning

It was the early hours of the morning. The point at night when the clubs have closed and the criminals were asleep. A sweet spot where even the A1 was silent. Murdoc wasn’t as calm as the rest of the world, frantically packing the pairs things, only the light of his cigarette to go by.

Stuart was woken by the racket the man was making. “Muds?” He asked, propping himself up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, “What ya doing?”

The man didn’t answer the question, simply threw the boy’s trousers at him, “Get dressed.” Stu did so, pulling the trousers on without getting up, too sleepy to move fully. Muds then emptied out the bathroom before grabbing Stuart by the arm, pulling him out from under the covers. “I don’t have time to deal with your bullshit Stu. We’re leaving.” He went to move out of the room, hand still locked around the boy’s arm, but Stu didn’t go easily.

“What? Why?” It was too dark for him to see the man’s snarl, but he felt the slap that accompanied it. Stuart was taken back by the harsh awakening but couldn’t process it as Muds pulled him forwards sharply, the grip he had on the arm made it go numb. Stuart stumbled forward, not resisting as Murdoc pulled him out of the room, out of the building and into the car parked poorly outside.  

The light the car provided as the doors were opened briefly shined over the two, and Stuart’s eyes widened as he noticed the state Murdoc was in. His hands were clean, but his face and arms were spattered in red. His clothing was different, not his normal attire but a half buttoned white shirt and mustards slacks. They were drenched, the shirt sticking to the man’s slim body. “Muds, what’s going on?” The boy asked panicked that maybe that red stuff was due to him being hurt.

Murdoc drove, and the light turned itself off, hiding the man. He didn’t answer, hands so tight on the wheel his knuckles looked as though they were about to split. Once the cigarette was done, he got another one straight out. He was shaken up bad, that was clear.

Stuart was scared, he didn’t know what was happening and Muds being in such a state frightened him more than anything else. The boy was folded up in his seat, not having moved from where the other pushed him in. The window was cold against his back and he held his legs against him, watching the man with bug eyes, the lights of the streetlights were flashing by as the car went by them, making the red that covered him glisten. Stuart knew what it was, but he couldn’t bring himself to think it.

All he could do was watch the man sped out of Reading, only slowing down once he was sure they were out of the town’s catchment. He didn’t say anything as they went to the speed limits. Neither of them spoke.

When Muds ran out of fags, he threw the empty box at the windshield in a short, angry outburst. Stuart whimpered slightly, flinching away at the sudden movement, but then they went back to their silent state of panic and fear.

It was only when the sun started to make the sky a beautiful array of blues pinks and golds, did Stuart move from his position. He was slow, scared then any sudden movements would freak Muds out more. His legs moved into the footwell and he twisted to sit on the car seat correctly, his eyes never leaving Murdoc’s face. Once he was more comfortable, he wet his lips, looking around the area to see if he could identify where they were. All he could see was green fields populated by cows and sheep.

He’s eyes moved back to Muds, who hasn’t moved since they started driving. He looked exhausted, his blinks slow and bags harsh. The red that covered him before had dried to black and Stuart was a lot happier, willingly forgetting their past colour. “Muds.” His voice was croaky due to not using it for so long.

Murdoc flinched at the break in the silence, the car swerving in the country road for a moment but was steadied quickly. He didn’t reply, only sided glanced at Stu as though he had forgotten the boy was there.

Stuart spoke again, clearing his throat so it was a lot smoother. “Muds, you need to stop.” The boy moved as though he was going to touch the man’s arm, only to stop as the man pulled away.

“We can’t stop.” The reply was dry, both in sound and tone. He shook his head, but his grip on the wheel loosened.

Stuart continued to persist, sitting on his hands to stop the temptation of touching him, holding him, from taking over. “You’re gonna crash if ya don’t. Please, Muds.” He tried not to whine but failed, his fear seeping into his voice. The sun was continuing to rias, Murdoc’s green tinted skin only showed in soft lights like this, Stuart wondered how many people got to see it. The man looked at Stuart again, assessing the situation. After a while of narrowed eyes and slight head movements, he nodded. Before Stu could say anything, he pulled into a layby.

Murdoc’s hands slipped off the wheel, falling to his side. His eyes closed and head becoming lax. Stuart thought that he might have fallen asleep right there and then, but he spoke. “I fucked up.” It was a mutter, a whisper, a breath. Stuart wasn’t sure if it was even said as he sat there, his hands under his legs and face full of concern. Muds hand moved to wipe down his face, pinching his nose and looking up in frustration.

The boy bit his lip slightly, “What do you mean Muds?” He asked, trying to sound innocent, praying to god the man didn’t react badly to the question, Stu didn’t think he was at all stable enough to calm himself down this time.

But Murdoc just shook his head, and Stu let out his held breath. “I need to get rid of these clothes, we need to stay low.” He spoke as though he was making the plain up as he went, this worried Stu a little more than he thinks it should. “We will go somewhere small, isolated. Get jobs for a while, rent a place. Stay there as long as I can…” He shook his head again, moving his hands back the steering wheel lightly, “I still have some of their stuff though…” He turned to Stuart and a corner of his mouth turned up slightly, “How many pills you got left Stu?”

The boy blinked at the seemingly random question, he reached into the back and dug out his pill bottle that was tossed in one of the bags earlier. Looking inside the tube he replied, “I only one.” Muds got out the car, and Stu was quick to follow, standing on the rugged road with his bare feet. He lent on the top of the car to try and release some of the pressure as he watched the man walk to the boot he was told didn’t open. Muds popped it open and shuffled around for a moment. He tossed a plastic bag to Stu, the boy missed, and they landed on the car roof in front of him. The contents was a murky off-white powder, Stuart looked at it with a wonder-filled frown.

“What's this?” He asked, looking between the bag and Murdoc’s smirking.

“Magic, Bluebird. Hit’s two birds with one stone.” Replied the other as he went back behind the boots lid. Stuart didn’t like the sound of that and eyed up the off-white bag with a look of disgust.

The man seemed to be a lot better already though, pulling out two boxes from the boot that "doesn’t open. Never has", along with a large plastic fuel can. He then stripped out of his clothes, wrapping them around the boxes. “Pass me something to wear,” he called to Stu as he worked.

Stuart, who still held his confused scroll, climbed into the back seat to grab Muds a change of clothing. He passed the garments over the roof, still not understanding what was going on and watched as the man dressed, looking much more himself, the dried dirt still coating his skin. Once covered, he gathered up the boxes in his arms and balanced the container between his fingers. He took them into the field they parked beside, Stu following, grateful for now having grass underfoot.

Murdoc dropped the boxes heavily causing them to rattle a little, he then opened the container and poured the contents over top. Stu recognised the smell of petrol that filled the air. The man backed up, standing next to the boy as he pulled out his matches. He took out a couple and lit them, throwing them onto the stack of petrol covered contents.

For a while, they just stood there and watched the flames consume the fabrics and cardboard. Murdoc put his hands in his pockets, and Stu was hugging himself in his vest. When the flames reached the bottom box, there was some loud pops and the fire spit violently. Stuart moved back in surprise at the reaction, and Muds wrapped a hand around his waist, pulling the boy closer into his chest, and father from the flames.

Stu was scared and confused, he didn’t know why Muds had acted so weirdly or understood what was happening now. He didn’t know what was in the boxes or where those clothes had come from. The boy tore his eyes away from the hyalinising oranges and reds, in favour of looking at the man’s relaxed face. The dried stuff was still splattered over his cheeks and forehead, and his stubble was course, eyes bloodshot and bags deep. He had the stress lines Stu remembers from the first day they met.

Feeling Stuart staring at him, Muds looked to the boy who was tense against his arm, hand holding onto his t-shirts neckline like a child. He smiled lightly, “What is it Bluebird?” The question implied that Stu shouldn’t be feeling any of the negative things he is, that the man saw nothing off about the situation they were in.

Being questioned made Stu question himself, and his eyes fell from the man’s, looking down in thought. “I-I don’t know.” He didn’t know what was happening, he didn’t know what was going to happen, what _had_ happened. And he didn’t know how to feel about that. Stuart didn’t know or understand anything about the moment.

Muds smiled a little more reassuringly at the boy, pulling him in closer to kiss the top of his blue hair. “If you don’t know something, then why are you letting it affect you?”

He was right, of course, Stuart didn’t know why he felt so uneasy, and that didn’t make any sense. He trusted Murdoc and he seemed to understand the things the boy didn’t. So, Stuart shouldn’t worry, right? Because if he needed to worry then Murdoc would be worried. And Murdoc had stopped worrying because whatever happened he was sorting it out.

Stuart wrapped his arms around the man’s middle, hiding his face in the other's neck, the fire continued to spit and crackle beside them. Muds’ tightened his grip on the boy’s waste in return. Once the sound the sound of the flames died down, and the sun was fully up, Stu asked felt brave and relaxed enough to ask another question, pushing himself closer to Murdoc for reassurance. “Now what are we gonna do Muds?”

He ran his hand over the boy’s back, letting out a heavy breath, “Like I said, I need to lay low. We’ll get a place for a bit, play house.” He pressed his lips back to the boy’s hair again, whispering into it, “You’ll like that, won’t you Bluebird.” Stu nodded in response, not pulling away from the warm embrace.

That thought was a little exciting, getting a place with Muds, ‘playing house’ as the other explained it. Of cause, they wouldn’t be able to play house properly, there were laws in place to stop men from doing that, but they can become roommates.

After another moment, Murdoc patted the kids back, pulling away, “Let’s go back to the car, I need to work out where we are.” Stuart smiled a little, letting go so they could walk back, the fire still burning gently behind them.

There was still so much Stu didn’t know about, but Muds was right, he shouldn’t let that stuff affect him. He trusted Murdoc to do the right thing.


	14. Debra Limber: Damon

She was found by the property owner around six o’clock the day before. The first responding officers didn’t know what to do or how to handle the situation, so they called higher-ups to take over. The area was then tapped off and the forensic team got to work trying to find what evidence was there.

The body was identified as a missing girl, Debra Limber who went missing over a month before. She was naked, covered in bruises caused both before and after her death. Marking on her wrists showed she was tied up at some point and there were clear signs of molestation.

Detective Damon Albarn was called in after the officer in charge noticed what looked like a faint indent of a cross on the girls back. The forensic team didn’t know what to make of it, but the officer remembered a nationwide memo asking for Albarn to be contacted if details like this were noticed. It was sent out years ago, but it stuck with the officer in question.

Damon was quick to respond, he hadn’t had any leads in the investigation in months, having been forced by his Superintendent to work on other things while he waits. So of course, he was quick to get on the scene before someone else could mess with it or get in his way.

The twenty-six year old was young for the job he had, but that’s because he started young. He ratted out all of his old ‘mates’ after getting a year for the selling and possession of class A drugs. It would have been life if he hadn’t been so compliant and agreed to work for the feds after he was out. Most of the other cops hated him for it, not to mention he was a massive tosser to work with.

“When was she found?” The man asked as he looked at the body, getting up close to her decaying skin, the rotting smell no longer bothered him as much as it had. He was looking for something, anything, to give more of a clue about who, how, why. This couldn't just be a corpse, there had to be something more.

The officer that called him in stood over the ditch the two bodies were in, a grimace on his face as he watched the other man look over the girl “Yesterday evening, she’s been missing around a month though.”

Damon carefully lifted one of her arms, the bruising continued on nearly every inch of her skin. “And how long do they say she’s been dead?”

“About a month as well, says Debra was dead when she got a lot of those bruises. But the bigger ones were made when she was living.” The officer didn’t like this, talking about the poor Debra like she was just another piece of the puzzle. Just another dead girl, how the questions weren’t even phasing Detective Albarn.

Damon made sure to put her arm back exactly as it had been. She was face first in the ditch, her body twisted like it was thrown out of a car without much thought, but the road was hardly used, dividing two farms with only an empty barn at the end of it. The driver must have come here intentionally, he knew where he was going to ditch her.

His hand traced over the small indent of the cross with a feather touch. It was in the middle of her back, and the skin was slightly burned on the edges, like the sides of the symbol were hot, it would be upside down if the girl’s torso was up the right way.

“This is why you called me, yeah?” He asked the officer, looking up from the cold blue skin. She had started to rot, and animals have gotten at her limbs. The detective hoped that didn't ruin any evidence.

The officer nodded, “Something’s off about it… Does she help you at all?” The man wasn’t sure if he wanted to know if Debra’s fate was like those of Detective Albarn’s old reports.

The smile Damon had on his face made the officer feel sick. “Yeah, yeah it does. She’s exactly what I’ve been waiting for.” He actually sounded happy about that. About the fact this girl was molested and killed in such a brutal way. The actual cause of death wasn’t clear yet, but it had to have something to do with the bruising.

Damon then climbed out of the ditch, pulling his cigarette box out of his pocket, and tossed one into his mouth. He then reached a hand out to shake the others, his smile continued. The officer reluctantly shook back. “I’ll have my forensic team come down to take the body and that. Thanks for calling me in, this really is a step closer to finding the guy.”

The officer smiled a tight smile in return, shoving his hand back in his pocket after the handshake was over. “Yeah, no problem.” He watched as Damon lit his cigarette with a lighter, eyeing him with dismay. “Uh, so you do think it was that guy then? The one that killed those girls you investigated before?”

Detective Albarn nodded, “I’m sure of it. Same appearance, same age group, covered in bruises. The cross is just a topper, only one of the others have that marking.” His eyes glistened a little as he looked over the naked girl, this was his ticket, it had to be. “What I don’t understand though, is why it took so long for another body to be found. Did he stop? Change methods? Why is she here now? There’s a bigger part of this I’m just not able to see it yet.”

It was clear he was talking to himself, the officer watching him silently. There was one thing he could tell Detective Albarn and know for sure he was correct. This man is fucking weird.


	15. Chippenham

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1000 hits?! That is 1000 different thoughts of interest. There has been, 1000 thoughts, that thought, this story was worth reading. The heck? Thank you so much!!

After Murdoc worked out where he drove them, he let Stu drive them to the closest town, taking a nap in the passenger side. Even after all the repairs hes made to the car, Stuart was surprised the man was able to sleep while it was running. Chippenham is where ended up, and once they crossed the border Stu shook Muds shoulder to wake him. The man pulled out the small black book is often writing in, flicking through the pages, “There’s a group of geezers here that own me, take that left there.”

He directed Stuart to a small local pub, Muds went in alone and Stu made room for himself in the back seat. A lot sooner than the boy was expecting, Murdoc exited the pub with a large, bearded man who did not look at all happy to be pulled out of the pub to get in the red car.

It didn’t take long for him to notice Stu, despite the boy’s attempt at hiding away. The blue haired male felt very intimidated by the newcomer. “Who’s the kid?” The man sounded annoyed that there was someone else there, pointing his thumb into the back with a glare towards the driver.

Murdoc glared back and was clearly confused why the question had been asked, “He’s with me.” His reply was matter of fact, as though it was obvious, and the man was dumb for asking. Stuart felt a little better knowing he wasn’t the only one that got that type of response. He felt even better when Muds tossed a new pack of Embassy to him, which he was quick to take a fag out of.

The car started back up and the subject of Stu was dropped. They went to the local high-street and the man directed them down a side street where the back of the shops were accessible. There were led towards the back of the butchers, where a door led them into the flat above. The man, which Stuart learnt was called Harry, explained this was technically the backdoor, that if someone knocked on the front you know it’s probably someone selling something or the pigs. This didn’t make much sense to Stu, and Muds shook his head with a laugh, maybe he didn’t get it either.

It had a cramped layout, the flat was two bedrooms (more like one bedroom and one closet just big enough for the single in it), one bath and an all-right-sized living room with a dining table pushed under the serving hatch where the small kitchen was. There was just enough furniture for it to be liveable.

Stuart was stood in the small kitchen, looking out of the window to the back of the property, he could see a small park just past the row of housing that created the other side of the alleyway. It was the weekend, and he could see the children playing on the swings and green space happily, a small smile formed as he watched them play. Stu, if he was being honest, didn’t like the flat. It was too compact for his lanky growing body, and he was sure that if he reached out both his arms, in all the room except the main he would be able to touch walls. But he didn’t care, because he was going to be here with Muds, and that’s all that mattered to him.

The boy jumped as he felt a hand grasp around his wrist, his head turned to send a frown towards Murdoc, “Ya scared me.” He pulled his hand out of the grip and linked fingers with the man’s unresponsive ones.

“If Harry asks, your name is Kevin, alright? Kevin Bishop.” Murdoc’s face was one of sincerity, his voice low so the other man didn’t overhear.

This didn’t make much sense to Stu, and this confusion showed on his face, “What ya mean Muds? My name isn’t Kevin.” He made sure to keep his voice just as low, his eyes darting between the different colours in Muds’.

Murdoc let out a long sigh, pulling his hand away from the boy's attempt at holding it, “I know your name isn’t Kevin, Stuart. But I need you to lie and tell him your name _is_ Kevin. Can you do that for me Bluebird?” When he asked he ran his hand over the kid's shoulder and onto his arm, the small act of affection allowed Muds to shake the dim-wit if he still didn’t understand the simple concept of lying about his name.

A moment passed as Stuart tried to wrap his head around the lie. “Do I tell everyone or just Harry?” The question was fair, but Stu did feel the hand on his arm tighten, and his breath started to quicken, panicking that he was doing something wrong. The idea of lying was causing his head to hurt.

After a long blink, Muds nodded, his voice lacking in patience, “Everyone, from now on you will tell people your name is Kevin.”

Stuart was quick to nod, “Yeah Muds, I can do that.” He gave the man a smile, but it wasn’t shared.

Murdoc spoke through his teeth, holding the boy’s arm even tighter, “Are you just saying that because it’s what I want to hear?”

He shook his head, “No, I understand. I’ll tell people my name is Kevin Spacey-“

“Bishop.”

“-Kevin Bishop from now on. I promise Murdoc.” He gave a large toothy smile, looking real proud of himself for understanding, it wavered slightly with the pain in his arm and his head.

The man sighed deeply, knowing this wasn’t going to be as simple as he hoped. His grip on the boy’s arm tightened, causing it to feel numb. The dumb smile disappeared, “I don’t want to have to hurt you Bluebird, but this is very important, yeah. If you slip up and there will have to be consequences, understand?” The kid wasn't the brightest, but he knew when Muds wasn’t playing around, Satan knows it’s only a matter of time before he sees the man at his worst.

Stuart’s eyes widened in fear, his heart skipped a little. He tried to pull his arm away very lightly, to recede from the threat, but as expected, it was no use, “Yeah, I-I understand Murdoc.”

Muds smiled tightly, letting go of Stu’s arm, “Good.” He moved away from the boy, out of the kitchen and calling out their guest’s name.

Running a hand through his hair, Stuart was trying to will the pain away. He only had one painkiller left, it didn’t seem like he had a choice about what he was going to do after he ran out. Murdoc was going to give him that white powder and that scared him. It was something he’d never seen before, didn’t know the name of, let alone how he was meant to take it. It was no use though, Stu might as well bite the bullet, so he followed the man, asking for his last prescription pill.

* * *

The next few days were slow, Murdoc would go out with Harry every morning while Stu slept in. They would come back just before lunch, which Muds had asked the boy to make for them, and then depending on what they did in the afternoon, would either leave ~~Stuart~~ Kevin there or bring him with them.

He had slipped up on the names only twice, and that was on the day after the change. Murdoc told him that when they were out in public, meeting their new neighbours and such, that he was to be called Tony. This was where Stuart slipped up, Muds wasn’t a Tony in his opinion, it felt silly to call him as such.

Two deep set bruises on his stomach taught him it wasn’t silly. After Harry left the second day in, Murdoc pinned him to the wall, kissing him neck as Stuart cried out in pain, being punched in the stomach with so much force his legs tried to give out. But it was his own fault, Muds did warn him there would be consequences if he slipped up, and he slipped up.

Unsurprisingly, this caused the boy to develop a headache, but having taken the last of his painkillers the day before, Stu was forced to let Murdoc teach him how the “Magic” was meant to work. It was more complicated than just taking a pill, but simple enough. Unprofessional though. Muds explained that a pinch (only a pinch) of the powder needed to become a liquid (with the help of some water and drop of the lemon they picked up earlier) by heating it up, and then once it’s cooled, is injected into the bloodstream via the arm.

Stuart was reluctant, but his head was hurting more due to the concentration he had watching Muds’ demonstration. It got to the point where Murdoc just injected the gold liquid into his arm for him. The effects were quicker then the pills had been, they were stronger too. It was like he’d taken too many pills, but he wasn't passing out. Like everything was weightless, but also a heavy blanket weighing him down in the best way. Like a fireplace in the dead of winter. Stuart understood why Muds was sharing it with him, and he was thankful for the experience. He didn’t want to take it until he got actual migraines though, something told him doing that too often wasn’t a good idea, despite how familiar it felt.

Harry also found out about their relationship, walking into the room just as Stu was trying to steal a kiss from Muds while the stranger was away. It was clear he wasn’t okay with it, but it was also clear he respected (or feared) Murdoc too much to say or do anything. He just kind of stood there like he was going to be sick until Muds continued the conversation they were having before he left.

Stuart apologised once Harry left, and Murdoc gave him a small lecture about how he needed to, “keep your self to your fucking self when there is anyone else around,” and reminding the boy what would have happened if Harry was in any other position. Muds, after how effective the punishment system was working with the boy, extended it so if Stu couldn’t keep himself to himself there would be consequences.

Once a few days passed by, Stuart was bored of just sitting around all day. It wasn’t like in the guest house where there was the staff he could talk to if he wanted, it was just him in the flat. Murdoc noticed with how clingy he became, turning to make Harry uncomfortable as a pass time. Unsurprisingly, he was not happy with this interference, telling the kid to, “Fuck off and find something to do.” Stuart replied there wasn’t anything to do, the chores he had found himself didn’t take up anywhere near enough of his time.

Harry, who was thankful Muds finally pushed the kid away, mentioned that there was a job going at the tailor's, that it was only chicks in there, so they might be thankful for a “fella like Kevin”. Stu didn’t really understand what he meant by that, but Murdoc seemed keen on the idea, and Stuart was forced out of the back door to go find a job.

It took a while to find the shop because it wasn’t on the high street but in a small cluster of stores by the church. There were two females in there when he entered, a middle-aged woman and a girl who must have been around Stu’s age. Stuart asked the lady about the job, and she laughed, “You know how to sew?”

“No, ma'am.” The boy replied, going a little pink as he realised that was probably the point of the job.

The woman looked him over, crossing her arms in thought, “What can you do?” The smile she had was friendly.

Stuart shrugged, smiling back, “Uh, I duno, I’m good at machines ‘n’ stuff. Me dad owned a mechanics.”

There was another, small, dry laugh, “Think you can fix a sewing machine? Be a bit of a handyman?”

The boy shrugged again, “Probably, yeah.” The woman nodded, standing up and walking into the back room.

The other girls spoke up then, “You from London?” She turned in her seat to get a better look at the potential co-worker. Her hair was dark brown, nearly back and up in a purposely messy beehive, she also had a birthmark above her top lip. Her clothing wasn’t really something Stu would have associated with a young woman, the trousers dark and tight with a top that looked like it was cut off an evening gown. She pulled it off well though.

“Uh, West Sussex.” He corrected, awkwardly shifting under the girl’s stare. Her blank face indicated she didn’t know where that was. “It’s just out of Lunnon.”

The simpler explanation didn't really help her to understand due to Stuart's accent, despite this, she made make an ‘ _oh_ ’ sound and nodded. “You move here with your parents?” She asked standing up, wandering closer to the counter that divided the room.

Stuart shook his head, “I’ve got a roommate.” That’s what Muds told him to say if asked, the boy would make sure to let the man know he didn’t mess up when he got back. His stomach was still tender to touch.

The girl smiled, leaning on the counter with one arm, the other on her hip. “Well isn’t that grown up.” She joked in a playful manner.

Stu didn’t know what to say to that, offering up a small laugh and a nod, looking to the back room and wondering where that woman had gone.

But the girl wasn’t giving up his attention that easily, reaching out her hand, “I’m Paula, Paula Cracker. And that is Mary.”

He shook her hand, her grip was weak, “Kevin Bishop.” He lied in return, just as Mary came back into the main room was papers.

“Right Kevin, you have your ID with you?” They both smiled brightly, Mary passing the papers and a pen to Stu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry is someone Muds thanks in his acceptance speech.  
> Kevin Bishop is the new voice of 2D.  
> Tony is the guy that use to bully Muds in school (thought that was fitting considering he's a DICK to Stu).  
> Mary is the voice of Paula.  
> Paula is also from Sussex in law but this is my story and here she's from Chippenham.  
> This is the closest job to friendship-bracelet making I could think of for 1961's Briton


	16. Tammy Brown: Damon&Jamie

After finding out as much as Damon could in Crawly (which wasn’t as much as he hoped), the Detective went back to his desk at the Metropolitan. Except he couldn’t, because another man was sat there with his feet up.

“I’ve been trying to call you.” The man said with a disproving voice, looking over the file Albarn had sent ahead. He didn’t make any type of effort to accommodate the desk owner, it wound the other up, which was the intention.

Damon walked past the desk. “I’ve been trying to ignore you,” he mumbled as he went to the small trolley that held warm-enough water and tea bags that not even the Yanks would drink.

The other laughed sarcastically, there was nothing funny about the situation. “It was important. But they closed the case now, teaches you right for being a prick.”

Throwing the tea bag into the mug with enough force to cause an earthquake, Damon looked over to the man sat at his desk, pointing a finger of annoyance and accusation, “If there is something you need to tell me, Hewlett, just fucking say it. I ain’t got time, to be dealing with you fart-arsing about.” His finger fell back to his side, turning around to finish his tea.

Jamie laughed smugly at the overreaction, swinging his legs off the desk, and standing up. Jamie Hewlett was the same age as Damon Albarn, but he got the job a very different way. He was more secure in his role in the force as well, working in the criminal investigations department since he had started, in comparison to Albarn being passed around like a foster kid. Hewlett started his career straight out secondary, working as an officer in East Sutton Park female prison, but was laid off for gross misconduct, which could be anything from sharing a fag to shagging an inmate (he probably did both). The department head liked him and the rest was history.

Still sniggering, he picked up one of the many files Damon had on his desk, “There was a girl, looked like another lead. But like I said, the case is closed now, they put it down to suicide. You could have kept it open if you had answered my calls.”

The other man walked over, carrying his cup of lukewarm beverage. “Why do you care, Hewlett?” Damon asked, his defences up as he snatched away the file. He was quick to sit at _his_ desk.

Jamie was still for a moment, hand continuing to hold the file that was no longer in it. “You know why. We’re after the same guy, Damon, I’m telling you.” He span around on his feet, looking at Albarn with a more sincere face, placing his hands in his pockets. “We would have him already if you let me help.”

The file was about Tammy Brown, twenty-one-year-old student, found dead in her bathtub by her boyfriend about a week beforehand. The water was still running when he came in, she had large gashes in her arms and was covered in bruises. She had threatened herself to the boy several times, using it as a tactic of keeping him with her. But he never thought she would go through with it. The forensics said that her death didn’t add up, but the officer on the case wanted to wrap it up, knew Hewlett was trying to get his nose in. No girl deserved to apart of that investigation.

Damon kicked himself for letting this slide, he’s sure if he was able to go to the crime scene he would have found more evidence just by glancing around the room then he had the whole time he was in Crawley. He tossed it onto the desk in defeat. “You still think it’s Niccals? He hasn’t been seen in a year Jamie. He wasn’t even in England last you heard of him.”

Detective Hewlett shook his head, moving his body in time of his words, hands still in his pockets, “No, I know he’s in England. Nipper was asking me questions about him the other day, which means there’s been talk on the streets.” Jamie placed a hand on the desk, leaning in to accentuate his point. “He’s back and he’s behind those murders.”

Damon snorted out a laugh, drinking his now cold tea (he can’t live like this). “Look, mate, I appreciate you a bringing me this file, and I’m sorry for ignoring ya. But there is no way in God’s green Earth it was Niccals.” He put his mug down, metaphorically brushing way the idea with a wave of his hand, “That just doesn’t make any fucking sense!”

Jamie pushes himself up, rolling his eyes, “Oh yeah, yeah. Like you have any other leads.”

“No, right.” Albarn opened Tammy’s file again, putting it on the table for them both to see, “Look ‘ear, let’s say the same guy did this. He must have started his routine at her place, right, must have caught wind the boyfriend was on his way, maybe he had called in advance or some’ing, put the girl in a bath and faked her suicide before leaving. If the boyfriend had arrived after the water had finished filling, the only off thing ‘bout it would have been the bruises. They would have been passed off as a suicide without you’re eagerly awaitin’ ears hearin’ anything out of the ordinary. That’s way too smart for the goon that is Niccals.”

He had him there, Niccals wasn’t smart enough to pull that off. Hewlett ran a hand over his face, looking down at the file. “There’s something between them Damon, I’m telling you.”

The other just shook his head, closing the file with a low chuckle. “I need to go re-open a case, he was so close to being caught the boy must have seen something.” He stood up, picked Tammy’s file up as he did, “Tell me if you have any feasible theories, Detective Hewlett.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nipper is the name of Detective that was investigating The Kray Twins


	17. Routine

It was hot. England always did this, whenever the country got any sort of weather that wasn’t cloudy with a chance of rain, everyone is caught off guard and miserable. It wasn’t even that hot, only averaged about 17°C the day before. Stuart loved it, both the heat and the sun. Whenever he looked up at that clear sky, a large smile overtook his face. Murdoc didn’t enjoy it as much, drinking more because he was dehydrated, the alcohol affecting him quicker for the same reason. It was a cycle that Stu knew he needed to break before the peak of summer hit. The habit the man had of finishing last nights bottle when he woke was starting to become an issue.

That morning, after their alarm went off, Stu wiggled out of the other’s hold and picked up the bottle of brandy that sat on the floor. Standing at the end of the bed, the boy held it to his chest, watching as Muds opened his eyes, with a tired, confused look. “What are you doing, Bluebird?” His voice was coarse, coughing in an unhealthy manner as he reached out to find his pack of smokes that was somewhere on the mattress. They didn’t have side tables.

Stuart pushed his chest out, his rips presenting slightly through the skin. The boy had always been skinny, but he’s always had enough meat to hide his bones until now. He hadn’t actually noticed his decline in weight, the Magic he takes (although Mudoc limited his dependency to migraines. Stu wished he felt the pain more often, just to have a reason to take the drug) makes Stu lose his appetite, not that the two were very sustainable cooks. “You need ta stop drinking in the mornings. You get cranky,” Stuart declared, looking at Muds with authority and confidence he didn’t have.

Murdoc laughed lazily, “Oh yeah?” He asked around the cigarettes he was in the process of lighting, taking them out his mouth with a large breath of smoke. “And when was this decided?” The man watched Stu with half-lidded eyes, amused as ever at the shit he come out with.

Living in Chippenham was, for where Stuart's concerned, the best thing that could have happened. As Muds had said they would, the two really were settled down, laying low, playing house. They had a normal routine and everything, just like Stu’s parents had. And Murdoc was flourishing, he was a lot less angry and Stuart felt more appreciated, loved even. This didn’t stop his chest from deflating at the man laughing, he stuck his ground though, replying with downturned eyes and a small voice, “Yesterday, when ya told Mr Kipper to shove the pig he was carvin’ up his mum’s arse with the cleaver.”

The recall was met with another laugh, folding an arm under his head, Muds was smoking two cigarettes, the habit of creating one for the kid as well was unconscious, “I can’t remember saying that. It-its, uh, very violent image that, isn’t it?” The sincerity of the words didn’t match the smirk on his lips.

“My point exactly.” The boy agreed, chirping back up, holding the bottle closer to his chest. “So, I’m going ta get rid of this, and you can drink some water instead. Paula says it’s very important to drink water in the hot water.” He ended with a nod, feeling more confident again, smart.

Murdoc rolled his eyes at the mention of the girl, getting out of the bed. “Or-” he walked over to where Stuart was standing, without his heels, the kid was notably taller than him, but the way both presented themselves, it didn’t matter any, “-you could give me the bottle before I make you.” Now toe to toe with Stu, he reached out a hand, running his fingers over the boy’s stomach, over the bruises that resided there.

The boy’s skin flinched under the touch, the mood instantly losing all the playfulness the morning had before. Stuart’s shoulders and faced dropped like a led pipe, handing the brandy over, “Yes, Murdoc, sorry.” Stu apologised for speaking up flatly, wanting to just get back into bed and start the day again, take back his comments on the others drinking and just enjoy the brief moment Muds held him. The mornings were the only time Muds held him. 

Backtracking wasn’t a reality, and the boy was left feeling cold and empty as Murdoc placed one of the cigarettes in his mouth, leaving the room with a grim smirk and a large drink. Stuart stood there smoking, hearing the taps run as Muds washed off the grime the hot weather created. The man had a hot temperature anyway, Stu couldn’t image how uncomfortable he must be. With a small look of concern, Stuart went over to their wardrobe and dresser, lining up both of their clothes for the day on the bed. Shirt and trousers were the only things that covered up all the bruises, Murdoc told the boy “I don’t want anyone else looking at you, alright Bluebird, only I can see how sexy you look”, and that made him feel desirable, so he covers up without complaint. The other’s work uniform was lead out beside the set, the dark blue was stained in what Stu guessed was oil, the boy tried his hardest to get it out, but one of the housewives told him it was no use.

Muds’ worked at Westinghouse like most of the men in the town, Stuart didn’t know anything about his job, other then the people down the pub wasn’t really happy he got it. It was a weekday 9-5, Muds said that’s as much as the kid would understand even if he was told more. He took both of their wages too, giving Stu a set amount to get food and the like once a week. He didn’t mind; wouldn’t know what to do with the rest of the money anyway, and if Muds had all of it, it meant it was all in one place.

Once their clothes were set out, Stu went go wash in the bathroom, Muds should be nearly done, but he stopped as he caught a look at himself in the mirror, focusing on three largest bruises that covered his stomach. He nearly got another one that morning, the pain of getting it was his punishment, and then the two enjoying them healing was his reward for not getting another. Except he wasn't great at the, "no getting another" part. They were all at different stages of healing, one week old and light blue with yellow, another from that weekend, still a deep violet. Stuart had run his hand through Murdoc’s raven-hair while they were in the car and one of the other drivers saw. It was his own fault. He knew the rules Muds had put in place, and they weren’t hard to follow.

The rest of Stu’s body had plenty of smaller ones as well, from brownish to blue. Since becoming settled, Muds’ had been a lot rougher in bed, more intense, sex was the cause for most of the smaller bruises. Stuart thought that’s what he wanted, back when it was painfully slow. But he was wrong. Although better (a lot better if he was being callous), it hurt sometimes, hence the bruises. Not to mention the few times Murdoc scared him. It was like he was a completely different person. As he got off on the pain the boy was feeling from his hand, how he found it funny to cut off his air. Stuart complained after the first time this happened, but it was blown up in his face, he asked for it to be quicker, rougher, it’s not Muds fault he was sending mixed signals.

Fluttering his eyes closed, Stuart once again asked himself if it was worth it, wither he should just leave when Murdoc is at work and never come back. He’d already left one life behind. But he’d left that with Murdoc. For Muds. Part of him really cared about the man, he would never say love because he knew it could never be a reality. That’s something Harry told him when it was just the two of them. That Murdoc was sick, but he was sicker. That people like him couldn’t feel love, could never be loved. That only someone like Muds could ever look at him like a real human being. Stuart made sure not to touch Murdoc when Harry was around after that, no longer finding it funny to make the acquaintance uncomfortable. The boy opened his eyes again, of course he wasn’t going to leave, he feels dumb every time he thinks about it. Besides, even if he wanted to, he couldn’t, Muds had all his money.

He continued with his day, empty minded as he went through the motions. Washed, dressed, went to the living room and disposed of the now empty brandy bottle beside Mudroc, the man ignoring him in favour of the paper. Cut some bread slices and placed them under the gill, putting water in the kettle to make himself a cuppa. He put jam on the toast and added his mountain of sugar to his tea. Breakfast made, he wandered back into the living room, placing a glass of water beside Muds that he knew would be ignored. He sat on the sofa, brushing shoulders with the man, hoping that he will allow the boy to fold up under his arm.

Murdoc didn’t move in response, simply let Stu lean against him. The older man found this near constant need for contact and attention to be one of Stuart’s worst qualities, but it was a small price to keep him happy and quiet. “Do you have a shift today?” He asked, still looking over the paper for anything he needs to be worried about, but it was just full of the normal world updates. Paris was in a “dismal state” again, the after-effects of Ethiopia’s earthquake were taking place, as well as reperceives from all over the world gathering to sign and finalise the Antarctic Treaty. It was standard stuff at this point.

Stuart finished his bite of the fruit flavoured sugar paste on toast and glanced to Muds. He hadn’t shaved for a few days, his stubble long, Stu hopes he’s not planning on growing a beard, “Yeah, I have. This afternoon. Mary wants me to fix some shoes I think.”

Murdoc was getting out his second cigarette of the day, Stuart shook his head at a silent offer of one. That’s enough thing Magic effected, Stuart was no longer as fixated on nicotine, too distracted wondering when his next migraine was going to be. The man only shrugged at the denial, shoving the pack in his pocket to take to work. “Is that girl- Paula. Is Paula going to be working?” He asked in a grumble, trying to hide how the idea of Stuart spending time with that train wreck bugged him. They were too close, it won’t be long until the boy feels relaxed enough around her to be honest. Muds can’t have the kid spilling, that would open a floodgate.

To his dismay, Stu nodded, “She is yeah.” The boy noticed the distasteful look Muds had from learning that, and become defensive in the girl's honour, “I think you would really like her if you tried Muds, she’s really cool.”

“I don’t think I’ve never heard a fifteen year old girl be described as cool before.” The reply was bitter, Stu didn’t understand why Murdoc was so against his friendship. Paula _was_ really cool, she loved her job, good at quips and could even play the guitar. Sure, a lot of her bitchiness went over the lad’s head, but she was sweet to him.

Before he could speak up to defined her again, Murdoc moved, looking at the wall clock. Stuart looked at the time as well, it was 8:23, the boy felt the frown on his face at the idea of Muds leaving him to go to work, “I’ll see you late tonight, Harry has some shit we need to take care of once I’m off.” Muds said, picking up his keys from the coffee table.

When Stu didn’t make any sound of reply, the man looked back to see the sad expression he held. Murdoc stood over him, looking down at the puppy eyes staring back. This was one of Stuart’s best looks, in the man's opinion, looking so innocent and hopeless. He moved his hand up to cup the boy’s face, loving the feeling of Stu’s head moving into it, his lips brushing his palm as the eye contact held strong. Stuart was naturally submissive, and Muds was luckily enough to catch him before another could. “Want you to be ready for me when I get back Bluebird, understand?”

Biting his lip, Stu nodded, trying to hide the pink that tinted his cheeks in the others hand. “Yes Murdoc,” the whisper made the man groan softly, leaning down for a hungry kiss. Stuart lived for moments like that. When it felt like it was only them in the world. When it felt like Stuart was the only thing in Murdoc’s word.

Those moments never lasted long enough though, and too soon did Muds pulled away. Stuart, trying to prolong the moment, stole small, needy kisses until Murdoc had to physically push him back into the sofa. Although he wasn’t out of breath, Stu was panting lightly as the man walked away, out the front door (the door thing confused Stuart more than anything else) and to work. He couldn’t help but let out a little whine at being left behind, not wanting to wait until tonight to continue.

Knowing sulking never solves anything when it comes to Murdoc, Stuart swallowed down his desire, and finished his now cold toast. Once done, he did the few dishes and collected his things to head out as well. It was Friday, which was the first of two market days Chippenham held, Fridays for housewives to stock up for the week, and Saturdays for the family to pick up odd bits and bobs. Stuart tried to get all their veg and stuff on Friday’s, the butchers was just downstairs, so it was easier to just come back from work and go straight to the building that holds both the shop and their flat. Mr Kipper did give the kid cheaper meats because they were neighbours (and he could often smell the boy burning it), but after Murdoc’s comment yesterday Stu wasn’t sure he would be getting that perk anymore.


	18. Hanging Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy Shit Snacks, 100+ Kudos. (and only around 5 of them are directly/indirectly me)  
> I'm actually speechless, the fact other people are liking this story is insane. We haven't even got to the good part in my opinion.

“Honestly Kev, you are so lucky to live away from your parents. My dad was telling me yesterday that I need to dress more lady-like. What does that even mean? It’s a thousand degrees outside and he, what, wants me to dress like my Grandmother? I don’t think so.” Paula complained, hand sewing lace to a blouse sleeve as angrily as one could.

Stuart listened with a slight frown, his face turned away from the girls as he tacked new souls into the dress shoes he was mending. Paula’s words got to him a little, he missed his parents, despite not wanting to go back. Missed those pointless arguments they had because they cared. He didn’t have little arguments like that with Murdoc, it was one extreme to the next with him. “You do get a lot of attention because of it.” The boy replies, glancing over the short skirt and bra straps under her off-shoulder top. He personally didn’t see a problem with Paula’s clothing choices, she was expressing herself and the skills she has from being a seamstress meant she had even more creative liberty. But he could defiantly see her father’s point.

Paula tutted, putting down her work to frown her dark brows at the boy sat across from her, “Great to hear you are on my side, Kevin.” The sarcasm could have drowned a cat. She did this a lot, so insure about herself she took it out on other people. Stuart didn’t fully understand this, never having enough backbone or whit to point blame like that.

Justifying and explaining his words or opinions normally worked at calming Paula down. A lot of her bite was due to miss understanding or miss communication. She wasn’t very bright, in an intellectual perspective, that didn’t mean she was dumb; Paula was many things, dumb was not one of them.

Although Muds understood him better, Stu felt Paula was easier to have a conversation with. They were more on the same level of understanding, and Stuart didn’t get headaches after talking to her for a substantial period of time, just like he did when speaking to Murdoc. He suspects some of this is because Paula didn’t pose him a physical threat. Paula wouldn’t hurt him if he got a response wrong. Looking away from his own work, Stuart sighed, his voice soft as he tried to reason with the frowning girl, “That’s not what I meant. Guys look you over when you walk past ‘em, Paula. They gave ya…” Stuart’s eyes became slightly unfocused as he thought of what to say, “looks of a profligate manna.”

Paula’s eyes narrowed at the unknown word, “What?” She asked, preparing to be offended. The girl was accustomed to insults, so whenever Stuart used a new word, she just presumed it was negative.

“Uh…” Stuart wound his fingers together as he tried to think of a clearer explanation. “They think you’re attractive?” He offered after a moment of thought, looking to the girl with a half smile that didn’t reach his eyes, hoping he didn’t have to think of something else. He never had to rethink sentences with Murdoc, unlike the boys from back home, or Paula now. Muds was the smartest person he’d ever met.

Luckily, the narrowed eyes and frowned brow faded off the girl’s face, a cheeky smirk playing at her red painted mouth in their place. Lowering her eyes in a shy manner, Paula asked, “Do they really?”  Speaking as though she hadn’t noticed, a light blush intensifying her makeup. Her eyes looked back up, through her long lashes to find Stuart’s blank blue ones.

Stuart smiled at Paula’s reaction, happy she realised it wasn’t an insult. “I think so, yeah,” Stuart replayed with a nod. He had no way of knowing if they did think that or not, he wasn’t a mind reader. Even if he was, he wouldn’t be censured with how people looked at his friend. But Paula did get the attention of some very attractive males and it was hard not to notice when they were out together. The boy wouldn’t call himself jealous by any means, but those looks did make something in him react with a frown or a twist of his mouth. He didn’t know if they were aimed towards the men or the girl.

Sometimes Paula would notice Stu making a face as her admirers walked past, and she would just giggle, nudging his shoulder playfully, or liking their arms and pressing herself against his side. He didn’t think anything of this, the two were just friends. But the way she acted while they were in public, it was how Stuart wished he could be with Murdoc. And that, he could admit, made him jealous.

Upon hearing Stu’s response, Paula giggled in that way she did when something wasn’t funny. Her long fingers reached out across the wooden table, wrapping themselves around Stuart’s forearm, “You’re so sweet Kev, I could just eat you up.” She giggled again, showing her teeth in a bright smile, leaning against the wood, so her breasts were resting on the surface, “What you doing after your shift?”

Stuart opened his mouth to speak something not yet decided, when Mary called out from across the room, “Oi, you two! Quit your flirting and finish your work. Miss Hamsun wants that blouse tomorrow morning Paula and I doubt you’ll want to stay late.” Paula moved back into her seat, laughing at being caught out. Stuart didn’t look up to see the woman shaking her head. His face burned as he shared Paula’s smile, finding it funny that was what Mary thought that was.

Paula laughed again at the redness in the boy’s cheeks, calling, “Sorry Mary!" before going back to her work, stealing looks from Stuart as he also went back to his job.

The rest of the day work day when by in relative silence, Mary called Paula over to help with what she was doing once the blouse was fixed. Stuart’s head was hurting a little from concentrating on the small nails and hammer, he kept leaning over it to get a better look, but then that blocked the light. It was a long cycle that could have been solved by Stuart moving sit somewhere with more light, but he didn’t think of that.

On Stuart’s pain scale, the ache in his head was low; but that didn’t stop him from wondering if that was enough to justify a shot of Magic. Murdoc always kept it with him (some of the powder from the bag had been deposited into the old prescription bottle), unlike his mother did back home. It meant the man had to be around for the boy to take it. This was good because Stuart would have one-hundred per cent overdosed by now. However, it was bad for Stu because it meant he had to wait. There was no way of contacting Murdoc when he was out, and the flat didn’t even have a phone for the kid to call someone else for help if it got too bad. He just had to wait.

Murdoc was stricter too with the stuff too, telling Stuart “no” just as often as he puts a pinch on the spoon. Unless the boy was doubled over, pulling his hair out, he was unlikely to get relief. Thinking about it only made his pain worse, so when Paula placed a hand on his shoulder, telling him that their day was done, he was grateful.

“You didn’t get the chance to tell me what you’re up to now,” The girl stated as the pair waved bye to Mary and exited through the storefront. Paula readjusted the strap on her satchel as she looked up to the taller teen, lips pressed together in suspense.

Stuart was getting his pack of Embassy out of his pocket as he tried to remember if he had plans at all. Sometimes Muds would tell him to go back to the flat after his shift for one reason or another, or he might have choirs that needed to be finished before the other got back. After some thought, getting out a fag and offering one to Paula, he remembered what the man said that morning, “I’m free this evening.” Stu replied, lighting the pairs cigarettes the way Murdoc did his. “Uh, Tony told me this morning that he isn't going to be back till late.” It still takes him a moment to remember the name change, but the idea of getting punched made him want to vomit, so he made sure to speak slowly and not slip up.

A bright smile shone on Paula’s face she learned this information, taking the cigarette between her fingers in a way that could be described as elegant, “So does that mean we can spend this evening together?” Her eyes twinkled slightly as she locked her arm with Stuart's, guiding the pair away from the shop front. “I feel like that Tony takes up all of your time Kevin. It will be good for you to have the company of a female for once.” She smirked, pushing herself into the boy and acting much older than her age. Mrs Pot wouldn’t have called Paula a “lovely girl” like she had Rachel Stevens.

Oblivious to the implications Paula’s words carried, Stu simply shrugged. Murdoc did take up a lot of his time because Stuart wanted to spend his time with him. But he supposed Paula did have a point, it would be good for him to spend some time with someone else. “Yeah alright then. What you want to do?” A number of things flashed through Stu’s head with the question, there were many things he wanted to do, fuck Muds was one and taking Magic was another. Alas, both required Murdoc and not Paula.

The girl smoked for a moment, thinking of an activity, the pair walking away from the Church road at a steady pace. Paula had mentioned once or twice that she goes there for service every Sunday, she also mentioned that she hated it and she believed the idea of God was ridiculous. After some thought, she proposed, “We could just go back to yours? I could cook for you? You need a good meal.” With her words, she squeezed her hand around Stuart's skinny arm, “I understand you’re two blokes Kev, but you need to learn how to cook at least.” She rolled her eyes with a light laugh.

There was a good reason why Paula had never been invited to the flat, and Stuart was about to come out with the same excuse he always does when she suggests it, “Tony doesn’t really like visitors,” which was a true fact the man made clear when Stu first proposed the idea of Paula coming around one afternoon. That wasn’t the case today though, Muds wasn’t there to not like visitors. “Yeah, alright then. I went to market this mornin’, so we’ve got stuff in.” Stuart smiled down at Paula, who was smiling back up at him.

As the pair walked the rest of the way to the flat, Paula started to talk about some movie her sister made her see the other night. A kids’ flick she forgot the name of, about twins that were separated when their parents broke up, and when they met up and realised, they swapped lives. It sounded shit to Stu, who enjoyed movies like Dracula (a film him and his mates snuck in the back door to see when they were thirteen), but Paula insisted it was surprisingly good, for a shit film.

They popped into the butchers before going upstairs, just like Stuart did most days, and Mr Kipper smiled friendly then he saw the pair. He must have gotten over what Muds said to him the day before. Paula picked out some beef, and Mr Kipper joked about a woman knowing her meat. Stuart thought he mustn’t have realised the girl's age (Paula looked older than Stu, especially considering his fake ID made him eighteen), but she laughed anyway sending a wink in Stuart's direction as he paid.

Once they had the main component of the meal Paula offered to cook, the two teenagers walked through the front door and up the stairs that opened into the hallway. Paula commented on how “cosy” it was as Stuart led them through the living space and into the kitchen, where he put the beef down. He laughed at Paula’s observation that the kitchen was “grosser than a lamb giving birth”.

Paula said that they didn’t need to start cooking for a while, and so they went back into the living room. Out of habit, Stuart turned on the radio at a low volume and he joined the girl on the sofa.

“I would kill to have a place like this,” Paula stated as she looked around the brown space fondly. Stuart’s nose wrinkled a little at the thought of wanting to live here. Sure, it did the job, but if he had a choice this wouldn’t have been it.

Kicking off his shoes (they were starting to get tight) Stu replied, “Why?” It was brattier then he intended, pulling out another round of cigarette with a look of distaste.

The girl rolled her eyes at the tone but smirked at the blunt question, “Sure this isn’t the nicest place, but it’s everything else it comes with. The independence of being away from home. The fact this is _your_ space. You're free here Kevin.” Paula ended with a glassed over look as she took the offered fag, imagining what it must be like to be eighteen with your own place and free to yourself.

Stuart had to bite his tong from arguing that none of that was true. He wasn’t independent, he was very dependent on Murdoc. This was Harry’s place, not his. And he wasn’t free. “Then why don’t you just move away? Leave Chippenham and start a new life?”

She laughed at this, leaning back into the lumpy cushions. “I can’t do that Kev, I’m the wrong gender for one. No, if I was to run off, I would have to have someone to run off with.” Paula smiled sadly, breathing in the smoke like it would take her away. The girl was so much older then her age and Stuart wondered why that was. The boy feels he’s grown an awful lot since being with Murdoc, but that’s because he didn’t have a choice. Stuart had to grow-up because Muds didn’t have the time or patience for a "kid".

Paula didn’t have a Murdoc though. Did she? He didn’t know how to ask Paula that. She had already told him her past. Mum and Dad live together, although she suspects her Dad has been cheating for years, and a younger sister she hated. But it was a sibling rivalry, she wasn’t a bad person. Something about the way she talked about being free suggested there was more she wasn’t telling Stu about. That he wasn’t the only one keeping secrets in the friendship.

Trying to decode Paula was worsening the boy's headache. He kicked himself for thinking too much when he didn’t have any pain relief around. Sighing heavily, he stood with the girl’s inquisitive eyes flowing him. Murdoc might have left some marijuana from a few nights ago. It wasn’t anywhere near as good as Magic was (which, in Stuart’s opinion, was the fucking best and nothing would ever compare) but it was something. He didn’t really want to have to isolate himself from Paula to stop it from getting worse, and he also didn’t want to be in skull-splitting pain.

Opening the draw within the pop-up table under the serving hatch, there was a pack of loose tobacco and a baggie of weed. Thinking Murdoc for not leaving him stranded, he got the stuff and tried to hide what he was doing from Paula’s curious eyes as he rolled the joint.

The presence of Paula behind him made him jump. “Can I try?” The girl asked with a look of innocents, pressing her face to Stuart’s arm.

He didn’t feel like he had any other option, “Sure, why not?”


	19. Sponge

It didn’t take all that much marijuana to get Paula spaced, sat crossed legged on the sofa and inspected the crease lines on Stuart’s hand. She rambled quietly about how her family were apparently descendants of witches. About how her Grandaunt tried to teach her how to read palms but stopped after the teen calmed it was all bullshit. Turns out Paula things a lot of stuff is bullshit.

Stuart smoked more to keep up, it was nothing compared to Magic but his brain was numb of all pain and substantial thought. Which should keep him over until Muds gets back. He was watching the way the girls long nail traced out the indentations that supposedly told his life’s tail. He wasn’t paying much attention to what was actually being said, something about broken lines and trauma. The intimate moment was ruined with a simple statement, “I’m hungry now.”

Paula laughed lightly at the childish interruption, her hand closing around Stu’s open palm. “I doubt I’ll be able to cook a meal for you when I’m this gone. Sorry Kev,” she admitted with a wide smile, opening her hand back up and clapping her palm against his in a basic rhythm. Her deep brown eyes were locked onto his blue, forgetting that this moment was just between friends, nothing more. Arrogance convinced her that it was only a matter of time. How could they no be? Paula has never been rejected.

Running his free hand through his hair, Stu puffed his cheeks out a small breath of fake annoyance, “That’s fine, don’t think I could eat a big meal anyways.” Stu pushed himself up then, using the sofa’s arm and Paula’s crossed legs as leverage. “I think we have stuff to make a sponge.” His journey into the kitchen was disturbed by Paula snorting out a laugh.

“You want to make a sponge? Right now?” Stu looked back with a frown, but upon seeing the girl now stretched out with her head just under the armrest, he couldn’t help returning the small laugh.

He reached a hand out to drag Paula up, which she took while pulling a face, Stu laughed at her again, pulling on the girls arm so she started to roll off the cushions. “Can’t you make it yourself? I really can’t be fucked Kev.” Despite her complains, Paula recovered herself before she hit the floor and stood up, waving Stu's hand around as he led her to the kitchen.

Letting go, Stuart put the beef they brought for the dinner they were no longer having in the pantry and started to pull out what he vagally remembers his mother used to make cake. “Is that everything we need?” He asked, looking to where Paula now sat on the countertop, feet swinging innocently.

After a brief look over the ingredients beside her on the counter, Paula nodded. As Stu bent down to get out a bowl big enough for mixing, she removed the lid of the butter dish and dragged her finger over the soft dairy. Then she dabbed her now butter coated finger against the loose sugar on its packet and stick the combination into her mouth.

Stuart lent back up with a bowl and gave a slightly confused look about Paula sucking her finger, only to notice the open butter with a finger indentation in it. “Did ya just eat butta?” Laughing around his question.

Paula laughed as well, removing her finger and shaking her head vigorously, “No! It was just to hold the sugar.” She explained as she dragged it back over the fat and then into the sugar bag. Once the simple creation was made, Paula placed her finger just in front of Stu’s mouth, a giggle escaping from around her smirk.

Without thinking any about it, Stuart placed Paula’s finger into the warm, most confounds of his mouth. He glanced to the side in thought as she slowly pulled her finger back out, his cloudy, painless mind working out wither or not he likes it. The fact that Paula once again had he finger in her mouth was beyond him, “I still want cake though.” He concluded as he lightly pushed the bowl into Paula’s lap, as the kitchen was so tiny with both the ingredients laid out and the girl’s arse, there wasn’t really any room left for Stuart to make the sponge he’s craving… Second to Magic.

They made a mess, which wasn’t surprising as Paula realised early on how was funny to blow into the dry ingredients, so they would fly out of the bowl in a ‘puff’ of powder. Stuart also found this the funniest shit ever, despite the fact it made his inaccurate to-eye measurements even more inaccurate. They added an extra egg to counteract this and mixed the lumpy slush more vigorously then they needed. Without the correct type of tin to bake the mixture, the pair just ate it raw, finger scup by finger scup. Luckily (or unluckily, for Paula’s intentions) Stuart was now using his own fingers and the girls had not entered his mouth since the sugared butter.

Stuart was leant against the pantry door, and Paula was still on the counter as they took turns eating out of the bowl. The boy looked around at the mess of flour and batter that not only cover the free counter space and wall cabinets but also coated the pair. All of Paula was at least somewhat messy and all of Stuart's top half had the white markings and dry dust of the flour. “Muds is gonna be pissed when he gets in,” Stu said to himself, sighing sadly in anticipation. He got off his high a while ago, but he was enjoying the moment too much to leave the headspace.

Paula crocked her head, licking the batter off her lips. The girl had also come down and, just like Stuart, just haven’t made any substantial actions to notice that until now. With her eyes narrowed and head still crocked, she picked up the bottle of Double Dimond that she got her hands on at some point, ready to take a sip after she asks, “Who’s Muds?”

Stuart’s eyes widened slightly, feeling as though all his blood had drained out of his body. Panic was building up in its place. He slipped up. Stu’s stomach twitched uncomfortably. But he can’t panic, not externally, because then Paula would ask more question and he can’t answer any other questions. He needed to think fast, but he wasn’t a fast tinker and by the time he shrugged his shoulder lightly and provided his lie as casually as he could, “I meant to say Tony,” an awkward pause had been left for the lame reason to hang in.

Paula would have to be blind deaf and dumb not to notice. She smirked around the bottle spout, her eyes twinkling at the opportunity to playfully tease the boy. Honestly, sometimes he just sets himself up, “Muds, Tony. Tony, Muds. Must be something about that accent because they are pretty hard to mix up Kev.” She began to laugh about it, but Stuart didn’t laugh back.

Normally he would be able to laugh off her whips, or (which is more the case) they would just go over his head and she would laugh more. But there was nothing to find funny in this one. If Murdoc found out he slipped up, the kitchen isn’t even going to register as something to be pissed about. “I just miss spoke alright, drop it,” he snatched the now mostly empty bowl out of the girl’s hands, moving across the small space to wash it in the sink. His eyes down and defences up.

It would have been better is he just hadn’t said anything, as the sudden mood change only gave Paula fuel. She put her beer down firmly as a small release of the frustration she felt about Stuart’s rejecting demeanour. Her tone was verminous, taking this personally, “Oh, sorry, didn’t realise Muds was such a sensitive topic. Sorry, I meant Tony, they are just so similar I must have miss spoke.”

His hands were shaking as he ran sponge over the thick china, Paula’s making him feel as though a gun is being held to his back. It wasn’t her fault, it was his, and he knew this, deep down. But in the moment, it was Paula being the problem, and hearing her spit Muds name made not only his stomach contract, but his temper get the better of him, “Shut up! Shut the fuck up Paula! His name is Tony, now drop it.”

The boy had moved so suddenly Paula could only stare back with wide eyes and a held breath. He had gone from sulking in the sink, to yelling in her face (granted that was due to them being only a foot or two apart to begin with). The bowl was still in the sink, which she was thankful for, Stu’s hand gripped the rim like it was the only thing keeping him together. It was so unlike him, never in a million years would Paula have thought Kevin was the type of person to yell, and out of nowhere like that?

Taking deep breaths, Stu turned back to the running water. The psychogenic pain in his stomach was making him want to be sick, and honestly, he just wanted a hug from Murdoc but knowing that wasn’t going to happen made him feel worse. He needed to calm down, Stuart was just working himself up, making things worse. This must be that paranoia Muds says he’s got, making him think situations are worse than they are. Making situations worse then they were. Still concentrating on breathing, Stuart looked up slightly, to watch Paula demonstrate the same breathing pattern, a small tear rolled down her face, but it was blank of all emotion. Stuart wondered which of his emotions were showing.

After some time of the two’s attempt at calming down, Paula moved, slipping off the countertop. “I should go.” She said, not waiting for a response as she moved around Stuart, careful not to bump into the lanky boy, and into the living room to collect her bag and shoes.

But she barely made it into the other room when Stuart responded, “No. Please don’t. I-“ he swallowed harshly, his voice small and dry, “I don’t want to be alone.” Paula looked at the man she knew as Kevin, at the flour coved shirt and scared, and realised he was just a kid.

Just a kid that moved away from home without a plan and was now holding on to whatever anchor he might have to stay afloat. She didn’t know what he was using to hold on, but she supposed that was her fault. She should have listened more, should have paid more attention, maybe he wouldn’t be there in the doorway crying at her to stay if she did. Paula wanted to be like him, wanted to be free from her parents restrains, out of that town and just be who she was. Stuart now was making her rethink that desire.

Simply nodding her head was enough to see the relief roll over the boy’s face. His eyes closed, and his hand moved to grab at his stomach, rolling his shoulder against the door frame to lean against the wall. Paula could see that there were more than just his emotions causing his distress, but she had no idea how to help. It made her feel helpless.

Without really thinking, she moved forward, back towards the kitchen to try and support, to be there for him, “Kevin, what can I do? How can I help.” His eyes opened back, looking into the kitchen. Kev’s face pulled sour, a groan coming from his lips like he’d forgotten to do something.

Reaching the kitchen Paula realised that they had, “Can you help me clean up the kitchen? I hate to ask, but he’s gonna be mad if I don’t…” Kevin's voice trailed off, not wanting to repeat the request. He looked down at Paul, eyes so full of emotion she thought she could cry as well. It was heart-breaking.

Not getting distracted by the words, but also not letting them slip her attention, Paula nodded, offering as kind a smile as she could, “Of course Kev, I’ll clean the kitchen when you go sort yourself out, yeah?” She reached a hand out to touch the other's arm supportively. He flinched away. Only slightly, but he did. As her hand touched the other's arm, she wondered what the hell could have happened to make him crumble to pieces so easily. Sure, Paula had a strong reaction at being yelled at, but Kevin’s reaction? It was a little excessive for the moment. Wasn’t it? “I’ll still be here though. Just call if you need me, yeah?”

He nodded, and she let go. Kevin offered a tight smile before he sipped out of the room, off to do god knows what to make himself more… Kevin. Paula didn’t wait around, as soon as he had left she was looking under the sink to find some sort of dustpan- Aha! There is was. She was a little surprised to find the brush there with it, in the Cracker household it always found one and not the other. Maybe that says more about her family then Kev’s. Except Kev doesn’t have a family, not here. It was just him and his roommate.

She started to sweep up the sugar and four that was mainly caused by her high self being a twat. It was funny though. The sound of vomiting pulled her out of her thoughts, pulsing in her job. Kevin was being sick. Paula walked out into the hall, brush still in her hand.

Because she didn’t know which door held the bathroom (which is where she hoped he was), she called out from the middle of the space. Not that it would have made much difference, the hall was just as small as the kitchen. “Kevin? You alright?”

It took a moment for the boy to reply, “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” He was being dismissive. And, although Paula knows it’s a fault of hers, she didn’t like being dismissed.

Having identified the door he was hiding behind, Paula moved towards it, knocking twice in succession with the side of the broom as her hand turned the doorknob, “You sure? Cause we can get you to-“ She cut herself off as soft bang and a hard force that was stopping her from opening the door. Paula could only image Kevin must have spammed his foot against it.

“No Paula. I’m fine. Thank you.” He didn’t sound it.

But Paula could tell that he wanted to be left alone, so, quietly tapping on the door again, she let go of the handle and took a step back. “Alight. Just call me,” she reassured as she retreated into the kitchen, where she could hear him vomit again.

Kevin didn’t call her once as she finished cleaning the kitchen, putting the wasted dust in the bin and ingredients in the pantry. It was dark out when she wandered back into the hallway, Kevin still locked behind the bathroom door. She pressed her lips together and reached her hand up to play the neckless she was wearing. “Hey, Kev?”

Again, there was a moment until he replied, it was worse than when she left, “Yeah?” It was difficult to talk to him behind the white painted wood. Only having his voice to judge him off.

She tore her hand away from her neckless, pushing her palm against the door, trying to reach through and just… help him. The only way she knows how. “I’ve finished cleaning the kitchen,” She contemplated just leaving it there, but something nudged her to add, “He won’t be mad now.”

There was since for a long time, and Paula thought that maybe she had crossed the line. Her hand slipped from the door, and she took a step back, “It’s getting late-“ Her sentence was interrupted by Kevin opening the door.

He looked fucking awful, like from the time she saw him last, someone’s sucked out his lifeforce. Kevin’s wet shirt was undone to about a third of the way down. Hiding Stuart’s deepest bruises but showing a few of the shallow ones. Not to mentation the constant state his neck and shoulders were in. Bags were under his eyes that Paula couldn’t remember seeing there before, and his normally full blue hair was slick and flat with sweat that drenched his body. He was also shaking, violently. “He’s still gonna be mad though,” Stuart whispered, and Paula could only briefly hear it as Stu was back over the toilet bowl, vomiting what must just be acid at his point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you read the next chapter, I'm curious, you know what Magic is meant to be?  
> https://www.surveymonkey.co.uk/r/RS87D6X  
> (Copy and past is needed, sorry for any annoyance)


	20. Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. So this has come out a little pro drugs. That wasn't the intention, this is meant to be a look into Stuart's addiction, which would be pro drugs because he is a user. I'm not going to sit here and be like, "lols this is fine to post" because it kinda isn't. I know a wide range of ages read this stuff and I don't want people thinking opioids are good relaxants that make you feel warm and good. Because they are only like that at the start, and with drugs like that, there is no stopping once the "nice" is over. From all the research I've done, with both the public announcement stuff and the addict's stories, opioids (Heroin, Methadone, Morphine etc.) are SO dangerous and just not worth it.

The worst withdrawal Stuart had been through was morphine. That’s also when his addictive and dependent nature began to show warning signs to his parents and doctors. The eleven-year-old was put on a drip once he was administrated in the hospital. The type of drip he had meant that he was able to press a button whenever the pain came back, his parents were with him, so it shouldn’t have been an issue. Except it took a lot to take the pain in his head away, and then he enjoyed the feeling, so he made it stronger. Some of the scans the doctors wanted to do, had to be postponed because of his over-medicated state. The nurses gave him a set amount of the opioid after that, which kept Stu pain free, but it was never enough for the child. When he was realised, the new medication targeted the pain in his head, but it wasn’t the numbing morphine, and the withdrawal he got was worryingly strong, and it took a good three days for his body to go back to normal.

What he was going through now was worse. The last few times Stuart had asked Murdoc for Magic, he was denied it, he hadn’t gotten a hit for a day or two. Panicking and stressing about Paula knowing Muds real name created a domino effect that should have ended with a needle in his arm and the gold liquid pushed into his veins. But it didn’t and as the body prepared for the drug it wasn’t getting; triggering withdrawal. The hot flushes, the vomiting, the quickness of breath and heartbeat, they were all because Muds wasn’t here to give him Magic. A part of him hated the man for allowing this to happen, a bigger part knew it was his fault. Stuart couldn’t be trusted with the powder in the bottle. He knew it, Muds knew it, the world knew it. It was his fault he fell out the tree, it was his fault for overdosing and it was his fault he was going through withdrawal. This was punishment for being such a fuck up.

He doubted Paula would understand this, even if he was allowed to explain everything, she wouldn’t get it. Stuart didn’t get it. Having her around at the moment was nice though, it meant he wasn’t likely to choke on his tongue or act irrationally and do something stupid. It was also nice to have his rub his back as he threw up stomach acid. Paula was also kind enough to fetch him a glass of water afterwards. She was a good friend.

With the girls help, he was moved into the living room. His body finally understanding that no matter how much you dry-heave, if there is nothing there nothing will happen. Paula suggested he just want to bed, that maybe it was food poising from the cake batter, but he shut down that idea quickly. Tony was still older than him, and logic would say that meant Kevin had the smaller room. Stuart wasn’t even sure the second bed had a mattress.

He was sat with his head between his knees, it was an old trick his doctor taught him. Not only does it stop the world from moving, but he can also block light from shining into his closed eyes and he can cover his ears or run his fingers over his scalp without lifting his arms. It did mean more blood rushed to his head, which made the pain worse slightly, but it was better long term once the had blood settled.

Paula was in the kitchen, he could hear her pottering about. He didn’t know what she was doing, didn’t care if he was honest. She could be gassing them out and he wouldn’t budge from his seat. Gas might make him feel better. The evening of weed and laughter had become night misery and (hopefully) Magic. But Paula needed to go home before Murdoc got back. It would only make his situation worse if the man came back, expecting the boy to be ready and waiting, only to be met, not only by Stu not being ready, but also Paula in their kitchen.

He didn’t know if he would be able to speak though. And even if he could he doubted it would reach the kitchen. Muds would be home any minute now, by the time she gets her stuff he would arrive. He didn’t know what time it was, but he knew this now classed as late.

Speak (in this case think) of the devil. The sound of the back door opening should have made the panic build in Stuart again, but he was so fixated in getting that hit of Magic, that relief that will make his struggles wash away, he couldn’t be scared. In actuality, he was more shocked to see Paula peak from behind the kitchen door, forgetting momentarily that she was there with him. Getting Magic wasn’t the only thing to be concerned about. The two teens caught eyes, the world slowed as Paula tried to ask him silent questions he couldn’t translate. Her eyes were widened with anticipation, but her face was also brushed with sadness. Stuart had no idea what she was trying to convey.

The sound of Murdoc walking up the staircase made Stu break the eye contact, his big blues shooting to the open door. From where he was sat, he could see the top of the stairs, he could see Murdoc walking up them and, when the man spotted the boy sat there, could see the flash of anger in his eyes. That would be expected, Muds told him to be ready, but he was still fully dressed and covered in sweat and flour, which is just about as opposite as being ready as the kid could get.

Before Murdoc could ask what he was doing, Stuart blurted out his request, “Can I have some Magic?” The man had only just reached the top step, and the impatient demand caused him to pause in his entrance. Stuart really must have long-term brain damage if he forgot how to ask for things. Narrowing his eyes and lightly clenched his fights was a small show of the frustration this caused him to feel. Most other people would have missed this, but it was enough for Stuart’s lip quiver.

Paula watched the boy from the kitchen, unable to see his roommate that must be in the hallway. One of her hands was playing with her neckless, while the other gripping the side of the door she was still partly hiding behind. Her eyes also moved to the doorway when she heard the threat, “You want to try that again?” that made Stuart literally push himself further down the sofa. The air was thick for Paula, but she wasn’t scared either, more worried and concerned about what was going on. She knew shit all about Tony, but from the few things Kev had mentioned at work or whatever, he was a catch of a fella. Now, she wasn’t so sure. Kevin has gone from painting the man as a God-like being. to someone that is making him cower away in fear.

Stuart didn’t dawdle at coming up with his reply, the anticipation of the drug therein that jacket pocket momentarily removed his withdrawal. His eyes glanced to Paula to remind himself of the girl's presence, before locking them back at Muds. The way his eyes moved away told Murdoc that there was something going on he couldn’t’ see. The next statement, “Please Tony, can I have the Magic?” let him know that there was someone else in the flat. He should reward him for being so quick thinking, it was a rare acutance.

Stepping into the room, Paula could see the man’s head turn from looking at Stu, to her. His glare carried heat, and it burned the girls face as she looked back. With just that look, Paula could tail why Stuart admired the man so much, there was just… something there that she’s never seen in a person before. Calculations and thoughts could almost be seen flashing in his eyes, the eyes of black and red. Paula wanted to know what every one of those thoughts were.

Murdoc’s voice was low, heavy and unforgiving as he snarled, “Who’s this?” as though the girl at the resaving end of his hate riddled face wasn’t there.

He ready knew who she was, but it was good practice to ask, and Stuart relied with a small voice, understanding he was in the wrong for her being in the flat.

The girl smiled with Stuart’s introduction, it was meant to come off as a smirk, but Murdoc’s strong gaze stopped it from becoming fully formed, “It’s nice to finally meet you.” The same could not be said back and Muds hoped his unamused face told her that. Paula swallowed down her disappointment at the understanding.

Murdoc looked back to Stuart, the threat in his eyes speaking more than his words ever could. “And what is she doing here?” It took a lot out of him to not just snap at the both of them, Stuart for being so stupid to allow this situation to happen, and the girl for existing in the first place. To help himself stay calm, he pulled his cigarette packet out.

The kid was crying again, he was so fucking sensitive. He was practically falling off the sofa as he begged for the Magic he wasn’t going to get. Let the little shit suffer, teaches him right for not following instructions. Murdoc can’t even be angry at him properly, Stuart really could be pathetic sometimes, it’s lucky he’s such a good shag.

An excuse couldn’t even be made, Stuart didn’t know what to say. Anything that he could say wouldn’t help the situation. Lucky for him, Paula was able to speak with clarity. Immerging from the kitchen, she walked over to the sofa and sat next to Stu in such a relaxed way Stuart was dumb-founded. 

“I was going to cook us dinner. But we got high instead.” She laughed, but when no one else shared it she stopped, “I think Kev got food poisoning from the raw batter, we were trying to make a cake with.” With her explanation, she gave a sympathetic look to Stu, placing a hand over his.

Murdoc was also a little shocked at the girl's confidence, snarling a little at how familiar she was being. But he was grateful for her honesty, it certainly explained why the two were such a mess and why she hadn’t left yet. He wasn’t subtle as he looked her over. Paula crossed her legs has the oddly hot stare travelled over her body, her gentle smile wavering.

A diction was made in that moment, one that Stuart will never be able to wrap his head around. Sensing the change in Murdoc’s stance, attitude, demeanour, he looked up at the man’s now sparkling eyes and dangerous smile. His hand slipped inside his jacket, and Stuart’s face lit up, “Fetch ya spoon then Stu.” Before Muds even finished the sentence, Stuart was at the sideboard he kept his stuff in and started pulling out the needle, spoon and lighter (which Murdoc gave him as a gift) and placing them lined up. He forgot about Paula completely as he walked back to Murdoc and gave him the spoon, continuing into the kitchen.

Muds was still very much aware of Paula watching with large curiosity. Watching her watch Stu caused his smile to grow. The boy wandered back into the main space, spoon in hand to collect the pinch of powder. The pinch was provided, and Stuart continued into the kitchen to add the other elements to the spoon.

Although she didn’t know exactly what it was the boy had, Paula wasn’t dumb, she knew it wasn’t good. Now Stuart was out of sight, she turned to Murdoc, who was putting the opaque tube back into his jacket. Any questions she might have had was put onto hold as Murdoc placed his finger on his lips.

Stuart reappeared and went back to the sideboard. From where Paula was sat, she couldn’t see the boy work, and Muds knew this, so with a friendly chuckle, he beckoned her over to where he stood. Looking between the man and the boy, she joined him in the doorway. What Stu was doing came into view, and it shocked her to see him pull pale-yellow liquid into a syringe.

Before she could ask the questions, Murdoc answered, speaking quietly as to not bring Stuart out of the moment, he doubted the kid would be okay showing that side of himself to Paula, “Poor Stuart hit his head as a kid. Gets awful migraines.” He finished his cigarette and leant forward to reach the coffee table the held one of the flats many ashtrays. No time was wasted before he pulled his packet out once again. Nodding towards the syringe that was now being pushed into Stu’s arm, Murdoc continued his explanation, “That stuff gets rid of it.” He offered the pack to Paula and was pleased to see her take one, he spoke louder to draw the boy’s attention as he pulled out the needle, “You want a fag, Stu?”

Stuart only mumbled something that sounded like a “no thank you,” already relaxed, leaning onto the side table with heavy limbs. Instantly, Stuart went from his headache, shaking, withdrawal, panicked state to the warm comfort of Magic. If he had to describe what it felt like, he would compare it to Muds holding him in the mornings. His hot skin against his frail body, his heartbeat under ear and soft breath in his hair. Magic felt like that, only it didn’t push him away when it woke. It drew him in closer, giving him soft kissed that had no greater meaning or intention. Magic felt like that, and the only thing he craved more was that feeling becoming a reality.

There were arms around him, physically, as he was pulled up from where he must have slipped onto the floor. “What ya doin’?” He asked, head lolling onto Murdoc’s shoulder as he was encouraged to take steps forward.

Murdoc’s voice was too loud, like he was speaking to someone else, not just him, “I’m taking you to bed, mate. Say goodnight to Paula.” They had entered the hallway, and Stuart stopped at remembering his friend, twisting in Muds’ arms clumsily to look over his shoulder.

With her unlit cigarette bouncing between her fingers, Paula had no intention to leave without knowing what the hell was going on. Stuart was high as a fucking kite and his drowsy smile was only added to by him leaning heavily on his roommate. “Night Paula,” it was very slurred, but she smiled kindly and offered a small wave in return.

The small exchange didn’t last long as Stu felt the hard nudge of Murdoc’s shoulder against his chest, forcing him to continue walking backwards into their bedroom door. It didn’t physically hurt, because of the drug, but there was still the association that caused the boy to utter a low, “Ow.”

The bedroom door was closed to behind them, and Murdoc tossed Stuart onto the bed, the kid basically melting into the sheets. He knelt beside Stu, getting close to keeping the boy’s attention from wondering, “I need you to stay in here until morning, alright Bluebird,” Muds ran his fingers in the other's hair, trying to ground Stu’s attention to his words and stop him from nodding. It felt nice, and Stuart hummed loudly at the affectionate touch that added to his warm feeling. Murdoc shushed him in return, repeating the request hoping the boy heard it.

Stuart was closed eyed, his body moving into a fetal position, moving closer to the man, “Sure,” his speech was still slurred, but it had more purpose then Muds thought possible, “but what about you?” He reached out an arm to wrap around Murdoc neck, to bring him in closer, a dumb smile of suggestions that honestly didn’t turn the man off.

He smirked back, a raunchy laugh making Stu open those beautiful blue eyes he has. The drug only added to that, making his pupils tiny, showing off the vibrant colour they possessed. Muds kept his voice soft as he spoke, pressing a kiss to Stuart's head, “Don’t worry about me Bluebird. I’m sure Paula will stand in for you.”

What this meant didn’t fully register, but Stuart smiled brightly, glowing in the self-confinement of the moment, “She’s a bread and cheese friend.” He whined slightly as Murdoc pulled away, laughing to himself at the stupid things Stu comes out with.

Pulling away from Stuart’s loose hold, Murdoc backed out of the bedroom, “Stay in here Stuart. No matter what.” He really needs him to understand that, to get into his thick skull. But he was already gone, his eyes becoming heavy and body unresponsive. Part of him regrets getting the kid on the stuff, not that he could go back and change his mind. On paper it was a good idea, in reality, Stuart is just a functioning heroin addict that, if left to his own devices, would overdose with seven times the recommended amount in him.

Now wasn’t the time to think of that. Paula was still in their living-room when he entered, she had lit her cigarette was sat on the sofa like she owned the place. Fucking bitch. When she noticed Murdoc’s presents, she spoke, no, demanded, “I want to know what’s happening. You’re going to tell me or I’m not leaving.” With the words she crossed her legs, pressing her lips together with poise.


	21. Didn't come home last night.

Waking up alone was odd for Stuart, it was the first time in a long while and he was scared he had overdosed in his sleep. Without the normal weight and warmth of Muds' skin, he felt cold and exposed. The thought didn’t last long as a sudden sharp pain in his stomach made him realise that he was very much alive. Alive and hungry.

He was still dressed in the clothes as last night, which he was eager to strip out of. As he did, he looked around the room for evidence Murdoc joined him last night, worried the man just hadn’t slept. Muds’ gets weird if he's unable to sleep the night before, and Stu didn’t want to have to deal with that.

Sighing at the realisation he hadn’t been to bed, Stuart made his way out of the bedroom and wandered into the bathroom. He needed a bath, the Magic and flour and general grim making him feel gross. Passing through the hallway, he called out to Murdoc with no response. When they first moved in, he would have panicked about being left alone in the flat, his insecure, paranoid and untrusting nature making him think he’s been abandoned. Stuart was at least somewhat past that. He knew Murdoc wouldn’t just leave him, so even though the lack of response unsettled him, he was able to continue with his day like normal. 

The living room was messier then he normally lets it get. Despite the drugs making his memory cloudy and far-reaching, he couldn’t remember it being that bad. And they didn’t drink, so the multiple beer bottles clustered around the sofa made Stuart wonder if something else happened. He was too hungry to dwell on it.

On the counter (which was surprisingly clean, he needed to thank Paula), was some of the beef they had picked up the day before, cooked with their loaf of bread set out beside it. Stuart couldn’t remember that either. Magic normally didn’t make him blackout like the painkillers did. And neither did weed. So, when was that done?

Paula! Paula was in the kitchen when Muds got back, she must have made it after he was done being sick. Shaking his head with a light laugh at the recall, he used the beef to make the sandwich she didn’t end up finishing.

There was a knock on the front door as he finished off his food. Stuart had to call out he was on his way when they impatiently knocked again.

Mary from work and a man he didn’t know were on the other side. Stuart smiled widely in greeting. “’Ello Mary, can I help you?”

The woman didn’t share his smile, and the man certainly didn’t look pleased to see him either. “Hi Kevin, this is Anthony Cracker. Paula’s father.”

Stuart’s smile faded as he looked at the average man with a concerned look only a father could produce. “Oh.”

When he spoke, it wasn’t threating in any way, which was something Stu hadn’t experienced for a long while. It made him uncomfortable, “You don’t happen to know where Paula is, do you? Mary said she went with you after work. This isn’t the first time she’s not come home and, honestly mate, her mother and I are at our wit's end. You understand that, don’t you?”

Yes, Stuart did understand what it was like to have someone you cared about be missing when you woke up. He tapped the door in thought, biting his lip at the foggy memory that came from last night, tried to sort through them and find out when Paula left. It was an awkward moment, as the two visitors waited patiently for Stuart to take a suspiciously long time to think.

Paula was there when Murdoc returned, he knew that. Was she there when he shot up? He was desperate enough for it the girl being there wouldn’t have fazed him. Then Murdoc tossed him onto the bed… but Paula was still there. Waving him goodnight.

He couldn’t look at the two adults before him. Muds' was the last person to be seen with Paula. But Stuart didn’t want to tell them that. That would bring more questions, and Stuart couldn’t deal with more questions. Didn’t know the answers to more questions, “No, sorry. We were gonna have dinner, which is why we left work together. She left ‘ere before it got dark though.”

Anthony and Mary shared a look, and the sound of Stuart’s heart was loud in his ears. They didn’t believe him, but he didn’t know what else he could say. Didn’t know how to lie about it better. “Kevin, look, I’m not going to be angry at you if she is here,” he laughed lightly, the tone finally getting that threat he was waiting for, “Well, not before I’m done with her first.”

Stuart shifted uncomfortably at what that suggested. They were just friends. He firmly shook his head "no", Paula wasn’t there, “I have no idea where she stayed the night Mr Cracker. She left me place before it got dark.”

The two looked at each other again, Anthony was getting frustrated, something about the kid was off. “Don’t you have a roommate? Would he know anything?” Mary pushed, and the way Stuart’s weight was being distributed from one foot of to the other made him look more nervous.

“No, Tony didn’t come home last night. He told me he was going out after work.” The lie was easy because he had time to mull it over before they arrived. Didn’t mean he wasn’t showing his nerves at the mention of “Tony”.

Anthony sighed, accepting she wasn’t in the flat. “Yeah, alright then. If you do hear anything, here’s my number,” He handed Stuart a small square of paper where the seven-digits were written. “Thanks for your time Kevin. Kevin Bishop, right?” He asked, looking from him to Mary. They both nodded.

Stuart lifted his hand slightly in a wave of bye, starting to close the door, “I will. Hope ya find her.” The adults turned away, giving tight smiles, and the door was closed.

Not knowing if he should be worried about Paula or frustrated at Muds, he wondered back upstairs. He tossed the number he was never going to call down on the sideboard and cleaned the stuff he used to make his meal with. Because he didn’t know what to think of the situation, he didn’t. Once the flat was back to his low standard, Stu settled down on the sofa with a book and a cigarette. Choosing to read until Murdoc showed up again. He will let the boy know what to think.

Hours passed into the late afternoon, Stuart was so absorbed in the thriller he got from the library that he didn’t even notice Muds was back until he entered the room.

A bright smile greeted the man, Stu forgetting about everything else as he put the book down, carelessly losing his page. “Where you been?” He asked without thinking, getting up to wrap his arms around Muds waist. The hug wasn’t returned.

Stuart let his arms full to grab his hands instead, taking a small step back so he can see the others face. The lack of sleep was evident, and there were red lines scratched across his jaw. Frowning lightly, Stu’s hand moved to trace the four lines that were hidden by the long stubble. “Wat happened?”

Before his hand could touch them, Murdoc pulled away, “Shh, I’ve got a fucker of a hangover. Couldn’t make me a tea could ya, Bluebird?” He walked back out the room without waiting for a response, but Stu didn’t see whereas he was already filling the kettle with water.

He bit his lip as he pored the water into the mug. Something didn’t feel right, none of it felt right to the boy.  Tea finished he went to find Murdoc, who was face first in their bed, the curtains doing little to darken the room. Not having another place to put the mug, Stu just held it as he climbed onto the bed as well, crossing his legs next to the man. “You haven’t told me where you’ve been,” he made sure to whisper, not wanting to worsen Mud’s hangover.

With a sigh and roll over, Murdoc replied, “I don’t actually know. Played shit music though. Who likes Jazz?”

His lips cured up lightly at the music genre, and Stu chuckled lightly, “I do.”

“Yeah, but you’re taste of music is shit.” The man quipped back dryly, taking the tea out of the boy’s hands.

Stuart laughed properly at this, his mouth opening wide in offence. “Fuck off! You don’t ‘ear me complaining when you got that Country shit on.”

Muds’ winced at the loud defence, rolling his eyes at the comparison of shitty Jazz to Country, “Nothing wrong with a little County, Stu.” After taking a drink of the tea, he placed it back into Stu’s hands, happy to use him as a table, “Good to see you’re, uh, still kicking kid. Gave you a-uh- a bit more than I normally do last night.”

The teasing smile slipped off Stu’s face, his lip coming into his mouth. “Yeah… For a moment this mornin’ I didn’t think I had. What with you not being there ‘n’ all. It was weird,” thumb scratching the mug’s handle, his eyes moved to his lap, embarrassed about admitting that. Not that he had any reason to be embarrassed with Muds, the man had seen him at his worst already.

Although he wasn’t looking up, he knew Muds was watching him with narrowed eyes, watching the little unconscious changes to work out more than the words let on. Stuart knows he’s doing so because that was he does. The man was much better at it, “I’m getting bored of reminding you; I’m not going anywhere, Stu.”

Speaking quickly will ensure truth, and Stu looked up sharply as well, his eyes wide with sincerity, “I know! That’s not what’s wrong.” It was getting repetitive, it seems like every other day Murdoc tells him that he wasn’t leaving him. Stu won’t deny how much he needs to hear it. Murdoc wasn’t very good at leaving notes or telling his flatmate things. Yesterday was the first time he had.

“Then what it is?” The tone was fed up, like he was bored with this type of chat. Stuart doesn’t blame him. But it wasn’t his fault if he couldn’t express himself properly, he wasn’t as black and white emotionally like the man. Thinking things over took the kid a long time.

Thinking through what was wrong was taking a long time. Murdoc waited patiently, closing his eyes and taking slow breaths as he waited for the worse of the hangover to pass. Had he gotten home sooner, he would have just continued to drink, but he missed the sweet spot, and drinking now would just make him sick. Being an alcoholic was hard work sometimes, not as hard as Stu’s addition, but apples and oranges.

With the time he had to think, Stuart was able to narrow what bothered him to a small list. “Paula’s dad knocked on the door earlier.” The man sat up quickly, and Stu nearly spilt the tea they were now sharing (he atomically took sips as he thought, too bitter for him).

“She’s back home now,” speaking quickly will ensure truth, his eyes wide with sincerity. “Did he just ask where she was? What did you say back?”

The rapid-fire questions made Stuart’s brain go blank, his mindless eyes confused. It took him a moment to get to words for from, “Um. He, uh, he asked if she was in the flat. And I said- I said no... Because she wasn't.”

Murdoc’s sigh was dragged out, his blink long. He moved so that he was sat directly in front of Stuart, taking the tea out of his hands. “Focus now, Stu. I need you to relay exactly how the conversation went.”

They spent a few hours like that, the pressure of Murdoc’s question’s causing the boy to panic. Freeze up. Thinking back to their faces and the small details like that were really difficult for Stuart. It would have been difficult for anyone, but Stu had an extra barrier stopping him from thinking smoothly. His head was killing him in the end, but Murdoc was reluctant to give him any more Magic.

“Please Murdoc?” He begged, hiding from the outside world by burying his head in the man’s neck. Sure, it wasn’t a bad migraine, but it was a migraine.

Stu thought he might cry when he felt Muds shake his head. “No, Bluebird,” his hand reached up to stroke the blue hair lightly, “I still need to punish you. Might as well wait until after that, y’know?”

Tensing at the reminder, Stuart nodded. Best wait. It caused him to sulk, lifting his head and giving Muds the biggest puppy eyes he could muster. Murdoc liked the puppy eyes, and the deep kiss he got in response reconditioned the behaviour. Maybe if Stu keeps the kiss going, Muds will forget about the day before.

Surprisingly, the plan was working, which was good, because Stuart was in too much pain to do anything other than mindlessly kiss. He hands pulled at Muds top testingly, and the man had no problem complying, pulling it off without hesitation. Stuart did the same, and as their kissing continued he could feel Muds getting impatient, ready to take full control and get the job done. That wasn’t what this was, Stuart was going to drag this out.

He pushed the man down with two hands on his chest, saddling him. Murdoc didn’t put up any resistance about this either, which was out of character to give up dominance like that, even in something so small. Stuart pulled back, looking over the man with concern.

Muds huffed a sound of impatient amusement, “What is it?” The boy’s eyes didn’t need to look over him very much to notice what was wrong. On his right shoulder, the one Stu just had his head berried in, on the part it connects to his neck, was a love bite. Stuart’s blood ran cold. He has never given Muds a love bite. He has them, all over, but not Murdoc. Not by him.

That wasn’t the only markings created by another. There were raised lines, like the ones on his jaw, down his chest, on his arms… like someone had scratched him. Stu checked his nails silently, they were not long enough to leave marks like that.

Unaware of what caused Stuart’s sudden devastation, Muds propped himself up, showing Stuart that the scratches continued on his shoulders and seemingly down his back. “What is it Bluebird?”

Not even his head could hurt with how cold and degraded he felt, getting off Murdoc with shaky hands. Off where the other person must have been to leave those marks. Stu couldn’t look at Murdoc as the man tried to reach out, he started to become aggressive. “I asked you a question.”

Tears rolled down his cheek, he stood up, feeling very exposed and wrapping his arms around his bruised body. “Who gave you those marks? T-that one on your neck?”

Clearly unaware he had them, Muds had to get up to look. And Stuart was right, there was a mark on his neck. Probably some on his thighs as well. His fits clenched, cursing both the girl and his drunken self. This wasn’t how this was meant to go. She ruined everything, and it only just started.

Stuart was still waiting for an answer. He couldn’t help looking behind him, to see the way Muds was had angered. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. Just tried to ignore it. But even now, he can’t ignore the multiple scratches on his back. Like someone was holding on… it made him feel so empty.

But, Murdoc was going to ignore the fact he slept with someone else. If it hadn’t been for the marks they would have just continued like normal. The more he thought about what this meant, the more unloved, betrayed and _empty_ he felt. He wasn’t even in pain anymore. “Murdoc?”

The man turned around, his jaw locked and expression stone. “Tell me what you want to hear.” They looked at each other for a long time, staring each other down.

He didn’t know what Murdoc meant by that. But he knew he wanted it to not be true. But the evidence was right there. But… “I don’t want this ta be happenin’.”

“I got in a fight with a cat.” It was delivered so smooth, so automatic, that although it was _clearly_ a shit lie, Stu believed him. Because he didn’t want the other to be a reality, and just like that Murdoc changed it.

The next breath Stuart breathed filled him with heat and relief. A hint of a smile on his lips as he shook his head in disbelief, “I hope the cat’s okay.”

Murdoc’s lips were on his again, messy and full of the anger he was trying to subside. Stuart still didn’t feel fully there though, he didn’t want to touch the cat scratches, couldn’t press himself against the man.

Without thinking about what he was doing, he took hold of Murdoc’s wrist, and backed himself into the wall, their kiss mismatched and lacking any type of flow. His hands wrapped around Murdoc’s, creating it into a fist, and pressed it into his abused stomach. Part of him knows that it will be the death of him later in life.

The kiss only paused as Muds muttered why he was giving the punishment. One for not being ready. One for letting in visitors. One for slipping on the names. Stuart cried out into Murdoc’s open mouth, holding onto the man for support and comfort. The need for contact overriding any other thoughts. He wasn’t even sure how Muds knew about the name thing, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered because he was there in Murdoc’s arms, their kiss more passionate then it had ever been.


	22. Would Have

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was really difficult to write, and it's not at all to my personal standard. I'm not expecting you lot to like it either and that's fine. But I do want to come back one day and rewrite this. Maybe when I have inspiration to actually do so.
> 
> I do want to make a big thing thanking all the support I have been getting on this story. This chapter in particular, I was about to just give up with all of it, but being reminded that people care and want to continue to read, helped me come to terms that this isn't going to my greatest, but's that's okay (for now).
> 
> Thank you for continuing to read <3

Stuart would have told people that living in Chippenham was the most ‘normal’ the pair ever got. They had a routine. They had small arguments like all healthy relationships. They were relatively happy and secure. But then he would then explain that the small bubble they hid inside was popped the day Murdoc met Paula.

Murdoc hadn’t lied, the girl really was returned home after the night they met. On the next Monday, she came into work dressed more “ladylike” as he father wished. Covering most of her tanned skin from view (much like Stuart had done). She didn’t speak of the events that happened that night. In fact, she hardly spoke at all, and Stuart got the impression she was trying to avid him. Not that he minded, looking at the girl made his blood run cold. It would be a long time until he was able to come to terms why.

For two weeks, Murdoc would continue to sleep with Paula in the evenings before coming back to the flat at night. After a while, Murdoc tried to explain things to Stuart, suggesting that maybe Paula even moved into the flat with them. But the topic made Stuart depressed, and he refused to listen to any of it in a very childish manner.

Later Stuart would have tried to defend Murdoc, saying he was using Paula as a way of finding relief. That if the boy had been more compliment with the situation they would have lived in Chippenham for a lot longer than did. That maybe Paula would be able to tell her own story then. He would have blamed the events that followed on himself, saying it was his fault for not going along with Murdoc’s plan.

Around the time Paula went missing, she had booked a week off work without telling her parents. Stuart guessed Murdoc must have done the same, as he saw him pack a bag like he was going on a trip. The boy tried to stop him, begging the man not to leave. He did everything he could think of to keep Muds there with him. Stuart would have claimed _he_ was the one to turn the situation violent, that he was the one that threw the first punch.

Of course, the first punch was the only punch the boy was able to throw. Murdoc beat Stuart worse than ever before. Only stopping once Stu was on the edge of losing consciousness. The boy would explain if it was not for him setting Murdoc off, Paula would still be alive.

By the time he was able to move from off the now stained patch on the floor, Murdoc was gone. If he didn’t blame himself so much, Stuart would have also left. But he believed that it was his fault the situation happened, and that he deserved to be left bloody on the floor because he refused to accept the situation when Murdoc had tried to explain it.

He didn’t even believe it was Paula that was ripping the man away from him. But he knew someone was. Stuart wondered what would happen if Murdoc returned to find he wasn’t there. Because when Stu tried to stop him, the reassurance was there, “I’ll be back in a few days Bluebird, you won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Until Stuart made him lose his temper, Murdoc was nothing but reassuring. Saying everything he could to calm the boy, but not what he wanted to hear. The man cared, and Stuart had to remind himself that as he pushed himself up, his body aching dully under the migraine.

The opaque tube that held his drug of addiction sat on top of the landings bannister.

Murdoc did care. If he didn’t then why would have thought to leave the bottle before he left. Why would he have not just left without a second thought? Stuart was sorely tempted to take more Magic then the pinch that was required, a small voice in his head told him to take the remaining amount in the tube. But then he thought about Murdoc coming back to find the kid had overdosed. He couldn’t do that to him. It would teach him right for leaving though…

But, then Stuart wouldn’t be able to see Murdoc again. They would have left it on such a bad note. It didn’t sit well with Stuart at all, and so he did do more than he normally did it wasn’t extreme in any way.

It did what it meant to do though, and once he started to come down from his nodding state, Stuart felt a lot physically better. He was able to clean himself up and asses the damage. It seemed like the worse part about him was a bruised rib. He could live with that.

He tried to continue like normal. Murdoc wasn’t with him twenty-four hours a day normally, so it wasn’t that different. At least, that’s what Stuart kept telling himself.

The only real change to the boy’s life the man’s absence caused was his ability to take Magic whenever he wanted. Luckily, due to how strict the man had been with the substance, Stuart only felt the need to take once a day, if that. He was slowing increasing his dosages though. The drug making him feel lonelier then he was, so was taking more to compensate and repeat.

Harry visited the flat a day or two later, asking why Stuart was still there; to which the boy asked why he shouldn’t be. Harry explained in layman’s terms how he was told to check Stu, and if he wasn’t there, then Harry was to find him before Muds got back. Stuart promised he wasn’t going anywhere, and Harry believed him because the kid didn’t know any better.

Once again, he was left alone, going to work and trying to eat despite his lack of appetite. Marry asked Stuart if the boy knew where Paula had gone. When he said no, she believed him because the two had stopped being as close as they once were.

No real action was being taken to find the girl, because she had taken the time off work, and she was known to go missing for a few days before showing up again. Mr Cracker didn’t even seem concerned when he came into the shop, only annoyed, stating how he was planning on kicking her out of the house once she reappears.

Overhearing this made Stuart think. If Paula is kicked out of the house when she gets back, then where would she go? Stuart was a nice guy, and Paula was his friend, despite everything that had been going on and how much the idea of her causes her pain. He realised he was given a nice heads up, because Paula was sure to come crying at the flat's door when it happens.

Without Murdoc there to confuse him more, or Paula to sour his judgment, Stuart started to wrap his head around the idea of Paula moving in them. What that would mean. He was still unable to accept the idea of the two people he was currently closest two were together, but he was able to accept the idea that they might be once she moves in.

It took a while, but having something to occupy his mind without any pressure helped distract him from the loneliness, helped to distract him from how empty he was feeling.

By the time Murdoc returned, he had found peace with the idea, become open to whatever may occur afterwards. He still has the Magic if everything else falls through.

None of that mattered in the moment though, as soon as he heard Murdoc open the door he upon him, wrapping his arm around the man like he was magnetised. Unlike normal, Muds held the boy back, whispered about how much he missed him. How he was sorry he left the boy the way he had.

Stuart had to take a moment to determine if it was one of his dreams or not. It wasn’t. Once they were able to pull back from each other enough to go back up the stairs, Stu realised how much… healthier, Murdoc looked. He asked where he had been, but Muds didn’t give a direct answer, “Bit ah here, there, and everywhere, y’know? Went where the roads wanted me.” That was okay, Stu didn’t care. He was back, that’s all the mattered.

Not much talking was done that evening. Or that night. Or even that morning. It was odd, how relaxed, Murdoc was, like he was almost a different person. Although the change confused Stuart, he wasn’t about to complain. He like this type of Murdoc better. Reminded him more of the man who agreeded to take the boy with him. It was almost loving, if Murdoc wasn’t such a dick by nature.

After the two’s reunion was over, Murdoc said how it was time they moved on. Left Chippenham behind them. Stuart mentioned what he overheard Mr Cracker say about kicking Paula out, but Muds just laughed, “not my fucking problem. Not his either, come to think of it.”. The “wat?” Stuart replied was ignored.

Murdoc told him to hand in his resonation to the tailors the next time he’s in there. That as soon as the paperwork goes through at Westinghouse they would leave. Mary was sad to see Stuart go, but she accepted the lie Murdoc told him to say, “I ‘ave family back at Lunnon that didn’t realise I came ‘ere in the first place,” as an odd explanation that sort of made sense. But it fitted with Stuart’s character well, so no questions were asked.

Mr Cracker managed to knock on the door before they left, asking Stuart if he knew where Paula was. Once again, Stuart was able to say “no” without lying. But he wasn’t any less suspicious about it, and Paula’s father left with a narrowed eye at the boy. When Stuart once again relayed the information back to Murdoc, the man considered saying for a little longer, as not raise suspicions. But the he remembered it was only Keven Bishop the people looking for Paula would have met. They may have known he had a roommate, but wasn’t like any of them knew who he was. Not unless they knew Harry as well.

They left within week, packing the few things they owned within the rented flat. Harry got Murdoc in touch with someone to get back into the “delivery job” he had before they settled down. It was like their life in Chippenham never happened.

Later on, Stuart would have explained it was a big part of their journey as people. That it set up foundations for Stoke-on-Trent. That accepting the possibility of Paula helped him accept everything else. Stuart would have explained that a lot of trust was put on him not leaving when Murdoc had. A lot of trust was put on him not speaking out. That it showed Murdoc he could be trusted. That it allowed Murdoc time to realise he wanted Stuart around.

Chippenham was something neither of them would forget. Paula was someone that would always bug Stuart, both as a friend as a rival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, little explanation. Paula just goes missing. I thought it was funny to set it up like so dramatic, but then nothing comes off it... Yeah... Please continue to read haha


	23. Shipment

Their time on the road was not exactly what Stuart had in mind when he left home. What they were dropping off were often just closed cardboard boxes that went into the boot that never opens until they got to their destination. Murdoc explained the kid didn’t want to know what was in them, “best not know then be unhappy.” It was a mentality that worked for the boy, and he was happy.

Driving like they did reminded him of the caravanning he did with his family in previous summers. Except it was better, because he was able to drive the car as well, and he was on a high-grade drug, and with Murdoc, and not with that _fucking funfair_. Still, it made him miss his family.

When he mentioned this to Murdoc, he was told to quit whining. That, “family is just something the universe gives ya to make your life hell until you are old enough to leave ‘em.” Stuart really didn’t know very much about the man’s past or family. The few things he did know about his father, he was certain it was shitty. Stu didn’t bring it up very much at all.

Word spread that Murdy now had a blue haired travelling companion, and a lot of people wanted to know if he could be trusted, everyone knew Murdoc went to great extents to not get caught because they witnessed it. But the kid? The only way Murdoc could get them of their back was by saying the kid was “so two-dimensional, you could put a live Gorilla in the car next to him, and he wouldn’t even notice."

Of course, Stuart _would_ notice if there was a live (or any type of) Gorilla in the car next to him. What he might not do, however, is anything at all about it. This would probably be due to the fear of being in such a situation would cause him to feel. Luckily that situation would never be a reality. But it got Murdoc’s point across and for the most part everyone minded their own business.

About twice a week or so, the pair would stop on the travels to sleep on a proper mattress and clean themselves up. Stuart learned that Murdoc actually had keys to properties scattered all over the country. That they were a "family perk" that only he really used. Stuart tested the possibility of a follow-up question on the topic, but he was reminded that questions rarely got answers that weren’t verbal abuse.

Things were relatively uneventful for a long time. Stuart’s Magic addiction was steadily increasing in dosage, and Murdoc had to reinforce the only-when-you-need-it allowance. A lot of their arguments were about that, because it was the only thing Stu would fight back against. The kid normally always won, but that was more due to the migraine the argument would cause, and not any ligament victories.

Murdoc would continue to disappear for a day or two every now and then, leaving Stuart at one of the properties. But it was never a week, like it was with Paula. The boy came to terms with the idea that was just how it was going to be, and so he waved the man goodbye and embraced his return.

Everything was… fine.

Coming to the end of September Murdoc caught wind of a big delivery coming in from overseas. It wasn’t his normal gig at all, and after some careful questioning, he decided he was very, _very_ interested in doing the collection. 

The pair had to travel down to the Plymouth shipyard for daybreak, which was a little way from their starting position in Gloucester. Murdoc made Stu check the car before they left because the amount of driving it would be doing after the pickup.

Murdoc honestly couldn’t believe the chances, and the small grin he had on his face caused Stuart to be excited as well, although when the boy asked what they were excited about, the man just said, “You'll see later.”

Actually, he wasn’t sure how Stu will deal with it. What they were collecting wasn’t like the normal “best not know” boxes they normally had in the back. It should be fine, but he got the boy to drive them there through the night so, if he wasn’t okay with it, Muds could just drop him someplace in Plymouth for a few days. Let him sleep it off.

It should be fine though. Didn’t the kid say he was feeling lonely?

When they got to the dockyard, the ship was just coming into port. Stuart was yarning softly, scratching at his wrist as he sat on the car's bonnet as he squinted in the rising sun, watching Murdoc’s skin change shades as he paced slightly in front of him, “Wat we doing here again?”

“You’ll see Bluebird. Now, this could either go very well or very not well, so I need ya shut your trap as I try and think of what to if this doesn’t go to plan.” It was unlike Murdoc to not have thought things through fully. But this wasn’t a normal situation, and he didn’t know what all the problems could be.

Stuart groaned out in boredom, using his hand to prop his head up. He hoped it would be interesting, seeing an industrial ship like that coming in, but it was slow, like watching paint dry, “Can I go get a cuppa or something as it come’s in? This is taking forever!”

Muds hands clapped sharply, the sound cracking through the silent movements of the ship, it made Stu stain his neck as he pulled it away from his hand in surprise. “I told you to shut your fucking mouth!” He snapped with annoyance, glaring a filthy look at the boy sat on top his car.

With a light sulk, Stu slipped off the bonnet, Muds glare following him as he went to reach in the driver’s window to turn the radio on and pull out a pack of cigarettes. Placing two into his mouth, he moved back to his seat before lighting up. Muds only relaxed again once he wordlessly snatched his ciggy from the boy's mouth.

Another half an hour of watching the ship be anchored down and everything connected properly, it starts to unload. They were parked far enough away that the sailors and harbour workers didn’t give them any thought, and Murdoc started to act what Stuart could only describe as nervous. It was very upsetting for the boy as that wasn’t something he’d seen before. Should he also be nervous about the situation, or damn right scared that Murdoc is?

The crew were filing out with a hummer of conversation and laughter, there was a small crowed over to the side that Stuart presumed were family and friends. Everything seemed as though it was working the way it should be, there was nothing out of the ordinary at all.

Until one of the doors to the holding deck were opened, and Murdoc got that small, weary grin of his again. The cause was a bold black man who came out of the shadows looking very annoyed at the situation he was in. Dusting off a hat Stuart associated with America gangsters he saw in films, the new man spoke to a few of the ship’s crew with sociality. The way he indicated back into the ship showed how much control over the situation he had. Dominating in a way only someone with his appearance could manage, his large frame only added to the respect he was straight up demanding. It wasn't like Murdoc's demand for respect, which was self-entitled and unjust. This man earned his respect. Stuart realised why Muds was feeling uncertain.

“We’re picking him up,” Muds explained at last, the two watching the man watch the crew members take out a large crate from the shadows, “Taking him to a, uh- ah place to stay for a while.” Stu gave him a very confused and worried look. Transporting illegal good was one thing but… Murdoc smiled as though everything was fine.

With himself and crate now off the vessel, one of the sailors pointed out the two leant against the red Impala before walking away. When the man saw Muds wave joyfully at him, his entire demeanour changed from someone cool and in control, to someone who just saw their dog shit on their bed. Stuart could have sworn he read “oh fuck no” on his lips.

“Hey Russel!” Murdoc called, after determining he didn’t have to be worried anymore. He pushed off the car and started to walk the stretch that separated them, Stuart was quick to follow with wide eyes and a nervous trip. “Remember me? Murdoc?” He continued after they were close enough for his voice to carry through the seaside wind.

The man, Stuart guessed was called Russel, shook his head in disbelief, running his hand over his face before putting his hat back on his head, “Out of all the people I’ve ever met, you were defiantly not on my list of desired reencounters, Murdoc.” The very deep voice had an accent the boy didn’t recognise, but his English was considerably better than Stu's own.

Stuart couldn't help but try and hide away behind Murdoc as Russel shook his hand. The laugh Muds returned was almost mocking in its casual tone, “But I’m not on the list of people you never wanted to see again, eh?”

The look Russel gave suggested that Muds may have indeed been on that list, but he was able to push the conversation along in a very smooth manner the other didn’t seem to notice. “You _are_ taking us into the country yeah? This isn’t just some, fucked up universe messing with me thing, is it?”

“No, I’m driving you.” Muds confirmed dropping the hand with another smile. He lent in a little closer, speaking in a whisper that Russel lifted an eyebrow to, seeming already done with the man’s mannerisms, “I guess she’s in the crate.” The way Muds said it made the whole ordeal feel a lot more sleazy then it had before.

Russel took a step back with a tight line smile, speaking normally, “Yeah. And the sooner she’s out of it the better. I was able to let her out during the trip, but getting in took longer than it should have, if you know what I’m saying.”

With a slightly sketchy nod, Murdoc pulled back as well, pulling his pack of cigarettes out of his packet, offering one to the man who denied it with a wave of his hand. “And how are we getting her to the car?”

The question caused a sly smiled to appear on Russel’s lips, “You have arms, don’t you?” Before Muds could reply, he started to walk slowly towards their red car, making a show of putting his hands in his pockets.

Stuart stood in confusion, biting his lip and intertwining his fingers, looking at Murdoc with a silent plea for an explanation. This was beyond him on multiple levels. But instead of a response, he felt the two cigarettes the other got out before be slapped into his chest, causing Stu to let out a low “oof”. His hand came up to stop the two fags falling once Muds removed his, “Help me then, dullard.”

Placing the two sticks behind his ears, Stuart picked up the side of box Murdoc pointed to. It was heavy, but in an uneven way. The side the man was carrying was clearly heavier than his, which was good because the skinny kid wouldn’t have been able to lift the other end. “What’s this?” He asked, walking backwards awkwardly, struggling to find his footing.

As though the box was answering his question, there was a light knocking that come from with it. Stuart nearly dropped the crate in shock, his already unstable footing causing him to trip. Luckily a large hand on his back helped stop that from happening.

Russel had stopped him from falling, and also stopped him from continuing onto the car. He could see the man’s dark narrowed eyes in his peripheral, but he was too scared and suddenly overwhelmed to look back, eyes glued to the pale wood of the crate he was struggling to hold. “Who’s the kid?”

“He’s with me.” Murdoc answered automatically, that being enough for the majority of people who ask the very same question.

But Russel was in no way the majority, his glare turning to the other male holding the crate. “So are we.” He stated, pointing to the box that knocked quietly in agreeance. Stuart jumped, but Russel was able to move the hand from his back, under the crate, taking the weight and stopping Stu from dropping it.

Murdoc glared back for only a moment, before he smirked, a raspy chuckle taking the tension away, “I suppose you are, yeah. Well, in that case, say hello Stuart.”

Stuart smiled tensely at the introduction, a small, “Alright?” passing through his lips quietly. The small change on Murdoc’s face made him embarrassed about not being more confident around the large man who was very much in his personal space.

Russel relaxed considerably, “I’m fine,” he replied, unused to the lazy English greeting. The answer confused Stu as much as the question confused the man. “I’m Russel-“ he pointed to the box again “-and that there is Noodle,” the box knocked in greeting. Ignoring the growth of confusion that radiated off Stuart, he placed his other hand under the crate. “I’ve got her. It looks like your arm is about to snap in half.”

Happy to let go, Stu got out of the way as Russel took his place, scratching his wrist nervously. The two got Noodle to the car without any problem, Stuart opening the back door so they could slide the box in gently. There was barely any space left on the bench for the boy, but he was able to sit with the edge of Noodles crate digging into his leg, hoping they would get rid of it soon.

Once they were all packed into the car, Stuart asked the question that has been burning a hole in his head ever since he thought of it, “Uh, why- why is Noodle in a crate?”

Russel laughed like he heard an unfunny joke, “Can’t be too careful. Never know who has eyes where.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you go, 2000 hits means 2000 thoughts.  
> Love ya too guys, you know I'm just as crazy about you as well ;) xx


	24. Scratching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: there is reference to self-harm and related topics

Stuart didn’t know what Russel meant by this, but he nodded as though he understood, offer a small smile in the reflection of the side mirror. As they started to drove out of the Ocean City, the two males in the front of the car started to speak so much Stuart didn’t have time to think about what was happening or who’s these people (he classed the crate beside him as a person, because that’s what Noodle is? Noodle isn’t a person’s name though. Is it?) were. Which was good, because is he was left to his questions, they would probably just cause him to have a headache.

As Murdoc started, Stu remembered the two cigarettes he had behind his ears, pulling them into his mouth and lighting them with the lighter he now keeps in his shirt pocket, the weight of it reminding him of Magic. It was comforting. “So, what brings you to Great old Britannia? A lot must have changed since the last time I saw you, big fella.” Stu passed him one of the fags over the seats.

Russel huffed out a dry laugh, shaking head again, like the situation was so surreal to him he couldn’t wrap his head around it, “Man, where do I even start. A lot of shit went down after that little cult-“

“It wasn’t a cult,” Murdoc growled out angrily, his hand squeezing the wheel tightly. Even though he wasn’t the reason for the attitude change, Stuart dropped his gaze from where he was watching the man absentmindedly. 

“-whatever you called it then.” Russel continued, sounding annoyed at the interruption, “it really opened up the gates to a lot more weird shit. Kind of poetic, seeing you now, just as I thought I was leaving it all behind.”

Murdoc grumbled something incomprehensible under his breath before rolling his shoulders, forcing himself to drop it, “When I heard about the girl coming in, I don’t know… _some_ thing caught my attention. Then when they said you were the one escorting, well, I knew it was meant to be! What are the chances? After eight years?” Russel made a face a face at the comment, a literal shiver running down his spine. The way he was looking everywhere but the direction of Muds spoke more about how he wanted to forget those events more than reminisce with him.

Curiosity had Stuart figuratively sat on the edge of his seat (as the box was pinning him into the corner of the car).  _Who was this man? How did he now Murdoc? What cult?_ He lifted his gaze to meet Murdoc’s hard eye in the corner of his rear-view mirror, the pair looked at each other silently for a moment, only breaking the contact when Russel spoke once again. Little looks like that let Stuart restart his mind, knowing he didn’t need to think too much because Murdoc thought enough for the both of them. His questions faded back into a thoughtless hum.

“I think we’re good to let her out,” Russel said, looking down either side of the main road they were driving on, checking for signs of someone following them, or suspicious behaviour in general. Once satisfied, he turned as much as his large frame could manage, speaking to the crate in a loud voice, “You hear that Baby Girl? Gonna get you out soon, all right?”

There was a happy knock in response, and Stuart couldn’t hold back a question, “Why don’t she just talk back?” He felt Murdoc glare at him slightly in the mirror.

But Russel didn’t seem to mind one bit, turning back to face the front, “She can’t speak English, and her voice probably wouldn’t carry through the wood well enough to even try and understand.”

Well that proved once again how Stuart was better off not asking questions, because the answer just confused him more. _What does she speak then? Have they tried to talk through the crate before?_   _Can Russel understand her out the crate?_  Then, how can we hear her knock? He didn’t even try and pretend to understand as Murdoc pulled into a seemingly abandoned industrial park.

They all got out, Stuart scratching his wrist as he watched the two men manoeuvre the crate out of the car without banging it into the frame. Murdoc went into the boot that never opens and pulled out a crowbar which he used to pry open the top. But a short leg kicked it away before he could get it fully off.

Noodle was not at all what Stuart was expecting. Apart from the fact she was indeed a person. A small person, but a person. But she wasn’t a type of person Stu has seen in person before. He recognised her as Asian because he’s seen persons of that part of the world on the television and in papers. But, never in person. It was fine! He didn’t have a problem with it. It’s just, he had not expected a small Asian girl _at all_. And the sudden introduction startled him greatly, his arm jumping out to grab at Muds like Noodle jumped out the box.

Murdoc also seemed a little startled at the burst of an entrance, eyeing up the girl that was speaking very quickly in a language neither of them knew and stretching out her cramped limbs. He was so startled, he didn’t even push the boy away as he pressed his weathered body against his back.

Unlike the other two, Russel was, unsurprisingly, not at all phased. Once Noodle was out, he moved to stand next to her protectively, watching her lips as he tried to make sense of the rambled speech, “I need you slow down if you want me to follow.”

She did, sighing greatly in annoyance, her small arms falling beside her softly, “空腹.” The way she presented herself seemed a lot older then Stuart thought she looked, but he couldn’t think of a way to ask her age that wouldn’t be rudely blunt. So he didn’t.

With the simple, childlike expression, Russel nodded in understanding, “We need to stop somewhere for food. Come to think of it, I’m also starving.”

Noodle nodded at the translation, looking at the new male companions for the first time. Looking at the way Stu was hiding behind Muds like she was the Boogieman. A bell chime laugh filled the empty carpark at the sight. The sound was so full of sweetness and innocence. Stuart felt foolish for cowering away, the sound making him feel a lot more at ease about the situation. Of course Murdoc would accept a job that helped this little girl, in her oversized military coat and school boy shorts. Who wouldn’t?

Emerging from behind the man he sought for comfort, Stu smiled widely at the laughing girl. Not sharing the boy’s enjoyment of the child, Murdoc grimaced slightly, “Yeah, sure. Get back in we’ll stop at the next place that sells food. We have a long drive so do you want to stop somewhere fully or…?”

He was speaking to Russel, but Noodled answered instead, once again speaking as though she was going to run out of air. It was too fast for Russel to understand fully, but he knew what she meant, “We’ll tell you when we do.”

And with that, everyone climbed back in the car, leaving the crate where it was. Muds declared it was, “Not my problem,” when Russel asked if they should move it somewhere out the way. Noodle was now sat in the back with Stuart, swinging her legs and bobbing her head in time with the Little Richard track paying, like she had not a care in the world.

The two men got distracted in their catch-up session by arguing about the Burlen Wall that was due to start construction. Russel argued it’s an extreme fix to a problem, but at least it fixes the problem. Murdoc arguing there wasn’t a problem to fix, and people should just mind their own God damn business. Unfortunately for Stu, this meant fewer explanations about what’s going on. Although, by the way Russel spoke about the war and stuff, Stuart was able to grasp the fact he was an America who hadn’t been recruited into the military but knew people who were fairly high up, paying duty to his country through working with them. If Murdoc wasn’t so focused on being right, he would have been intrigued about the disclosed information.

When they stopped at a small café for breakfast, Russel was too busy on making sure Noodle knew what she was ordering and then teaching her how to pronounce environmental words as they ate, to speak to his new travelling companions. He also sat them at a different table, although Stu couldn’t really work out why.

Still, the boy half watched the lesson with a small smile, something pleased him about seeing such a large man patiently speak with such a little girl. It was clear the two had a built a close relationship, the respect they had for each other was equal. Unlike that of a parent/child. Despite his teaching, Russel was not parenting the girl in any way, and that was something Stuart admired.

He was dragged out of his dreamlike gaze by Murdoc speaking, “Quit staring at ‘em. It’s creepy.” Stu instantly dropped his eyes, looking at the untouched pastry in front of him, biting his lip at being called out. “Didn’t realise she couldn’t speak English,” He grumbled after scolding Stu, “Gonna get old real fast I reason,” he took a drink of his black coffee around the anticipated irritation. He was sat with his back to the other pair, elbows on the table as he tried to blend into the otherwise empty room.

Looking up through his lashes, Stuart could see this wasn’t what Muds thought it would be. Although helping Noodle was a kind thing to do, Stu knew how much Murdoc valued privacy, willingly having two more people around didn’t really seem like something he would jump into accepting. “Seems like she’s able to understand it at least,” Stu offered as reassurance, scratching at his wrist, “and Russel’s teaching her now. Doesn’t seem like it would be long until she’s able to speak it too.”

Despite how unusually insightful that argument was, Murdoc wasn’t in the mood to be reasoned with, so the look he gave in response suggested Stuart had made no sense, the boy’s cheeks going pink in shame at the negative enforcement, “Like you what you’re on about.”

The topic was dropped with that, Stuart picking at the food on his plate, not hungry in the slightest. After driving all night, he wanted a nap more than anything. “How old do you think Noodle is?” The question hadn’t ever registered in his mind before it came out, but he didn’t regret asking because he was curious and asking Murdoc like this was better than outright asking anyway.

“They told me she was nine. But, she looks younger than that, doesn’t she?” Murdoc asked back, narrowing his eyes in thought. As Stu nodded in agreement, he picked up the croissant, biting into it, knowing the boy wasn’t going to eat it. “Then again,” he continued around his mouthful of buttery pastry, “Russel is only nineteen and he looks a lot older than that, y’know?”

Stu nodded again, looking over to where the others were sat laughing quietly. Happily. He was once again pulled out of his mindless stare by Murdoc gabbing his cuffed wrist, assertive, but not aggressive, “Stop. Watching. Them.” The threat was low, but the boy was more concerned with how much his wrist hurt under Muds hand, a painfilled hiss showing off his discomfort.

With a confused glare, Murdoc unceremoniously opened the boy’s cuff, pushing up the sleeve to investigate. He wasn’t being gentle in any way, and Stuart tried to pull his arm out of the grip, hissing once again as his legs slid under the table in the struggle to get away. “Stop drawing attention to us,” Murdoc growled out quietly before looking at the bloody sore that went from the back of the kid’s wrist and up about a third of his forearm. Almost exactly where his cuff covered. “What’s this?” It wasn’t there the other night, and Murdoc can’t remember being the cause of it. Looking at Stuart’s face, there was no way it was caused by him.

Biting his lip so hard he could taste the blood, Stu was fighting the unbearable urge to scratch at the open wound, his eyes closing, and body stretched out, still trying to pointlessly get away. Murdoc’s foot hooked under the boy’s chair, dragging him back under the table nicely. As he did this, he moved his grip on the wrist, fingers pressing into the wound, a small amount of blood rising around them from the raw skin, “Answer me Stuart.” He was keeping his voice down, hiding his actions with his frame, it was clear he didn’t want the other two to see this.

Neither did Stuart, who changed approach, arm going slack as he tried to loosen the hold from his side. His head fell into his chest, hiding the painfilled tears that were building in his squeezed shut eyes, “It-it hurts Muds.” That wasn’t an answer, and the increase of pressure made Stuart want to yell, his leg flinching as an outlet. Taking deep breaths, he was able to cope with the pain enough to speak, “I scra-scratch at it. It itches.” The relief was almost worth the pain, his whole body going from thence to relax in time of Murdoc removing his fingers, but he didn’t remove his grip.

Opening his eyes, Stuart was shocked with how much blood came from the flesh wound. It wasn’t enough to pool on the table or make a mess, but Murdoc’s fingers were pretty coated and the puddle that rested in the gash was almost overflowing. The man was about to demand a better explanation to the self-harm, but was interrupted by Noodle’s foreign tongue speaking loudly to Russel behind them.

The boy was allowed to yank his arm under the table before she appeared beside them, Murdoc’s scold continued as he closed his hand to hide the bloody fingers. Stuart didn’t look up as she spoke, trying to blindly do up his sleeve without smearing the red everywhere. “We are ready to go.” Noodle said slowly, accent heavily. Once successful, she beamed up to where Russel stood in the doorway for his silent praise.

Stu couldn’t help but smile as well, looking from the table to little Noodle’s round face. Noodle smiled back as she waited for a response Stuart didn’t have the authority to give, but it was quick to fall as she noticed the pain in his eyes, “大丈夫ですか?” Looking closer, she noticed the way his arm was awkwardly placed under the table, her hand reaching out to receive it in a childish attempt at helping.

She was stopped but Murdoc’s unmarked hand flicking in front of her, as a clear sign not to touch, Noodle pulled back respectfully. “Yeah, luv,” Muds spoke, ignoring the unknown words of concern, “We’ll be there in just a second.” The man’s eyes flickered to were Russel stood at the door, ready to intervene at any moment.

Noodle spoke softly in her native words, and with a small nod of dismissal, she walked away, eyes of concern never leaving Stuart who was shying away, arms still under the table, looking everywhere but the other people in the room.

Murdoc waited for them to both exit, leaving only him and Stuart in the café front, but Stu wasn’t budging from his position. “Stuart.” Still, he didn’t move, giving up trying to do his sleeve up, he just sat there, almost doubled over to hide his arms, looking at a blank space in the wall. “For fuck sake’s Stuart, we don’t have time for this.” He didn’t sound angry, or even that annoyed and Stu frowned at the uncommon reaction, looking to see the man’s fed-up face, he opened his bloodied hand up, “Let me see it.”

He didn’t want to, and so he shook his head no. There was the anger in the man’s face, but before he could open his mouth to threaten, Stuart spoke to explain, “You’re just gonna ‘urt it again.”

With the breath of air he sucked in to snarl, Murdoc breathed out deeply, calming himself once again. “No. No, I’m not Bluebird,” his open hand twitched slightly on the table, “I’m sorry I did that. Truly, I am,“ he closed his eyes in sincerity, and Stuart relaxed at the apology, “But we have people waiting on us now, so we can’t mess around like you normally do, okay? Please Stuart, let me see it.”

Feeling a lot better at Murdoc’s words, Stuart gently pulled his arms from under the table, resting his injured one in Muds waiting palm, wound open to the air. It was red and angry and it stung like hell. “It get’s itchy,” Stuart explained again, watching as Murdoc inspected it. “Guess it got like that from scratching.”

Only then did Stuart raise his eyes to look at Muds bitter face. “You’re a fucking idiot,” the man mumbled with a sigh, closing Stuart’s shirt sleeve, careful to only let the bloody flesh touch the thicker material of the cuff.

Before he could get up though, Stu turn his wrist, gripping Murdoc’s instead. The man met his eye and the kid looked as though he was going to cry, there was so much shame and disappointment on his face, “I’m really sorry Murdoc. I didn’t mean to make it that bad.”

Murdoc’s face was blank, pulling away from the boy’s grip, “We can talk about it later Bluebird. But we need to go, the longer we leave the others, the more questions they will have. It will be up to you to answer them.” That was a threat in itself, and Stuart scramble up from the chair, nodding in understanding.

The other two were waiting by the car as instructed, Noodle sat on the bonnet, speaking slowly so Russel could at least try and follow. When he saw the other two come outside though, he removed all the fondness from his face, “What was that about?”

They didn’t answer right away, looking at each other with a plea and a demand. Russel didn’t like that dynamic. Unexpectedly, the kid spoke, looking like someone just told him Christmas was cancelled, “I a- uh… y’know.”

“No, I don’t know. You telling us to wait outside like animals ain’t how this is gonna work.” He was speaking to the kid, because he was the one who spoke. But the fear on his face told the man Stuart wasn’t the one who deserved the scolding, and so he turned to Murdoc, who was getting in the car without a word. He looked like he had to tell the kid Christmas was cancelled, he was the problem. “Murdoc.” The threating look he received would have sent weaker men into silence, “We ain’t just two accessories you have to carry about until you drop us off. Now I understand you might need to talk without us knowing, but we ain’t here for you to just send outside.” He was proud to see Noodle nod in agreement.

Unfortanly, it didn’t look like the man cared all that much, “Sweet Satan-“ Russel flinched slightly, “-save the fucking lecture. I understand alright! Now, will you please get in the car so we can leave?”

Russle didn’t think he did understand, but talking to him now clearly wasn’t the time. He helped Noodle get off the red metal and waited for her to sit so he could make sure she did up her seatbelt. Not that she wasn’t able to do herself, it’s just seatbelts were a relatively new thing for her, and he felt better knowing she had her’s on. Especially with someone like Murdoc Niccels behind the wheel.

Standing in the door frame though, he was able to see Stuart a little better then he had before. Well dressed and quite, nothing out of the ordinary… apart from the bright blue hair. What was someone like that doing here with them? Leaving over Noodle to double check the belt was clicked in properly (seatbelts SUCKED back then, because literally only Noodle was wearing one at the time) he noticed a stain of blood above the boy’s cuff, diss-colouration on the cuff itself. Russel gave no sign he noticed.


	25. Harbormaster: Jamie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again edited by figher1day <3
> 
> Tumblr: winnieisnotabear-bear (forever self-promote)

Desperation allowed him to get dragged into this. Just a name whispered in a pub. A word to a higher up. Only one phone call to the Detective and he was in the car.

Sure, Detective Albarn was correct in his past comments. There was zero evidence that Niccals was even in the country. But, unlike “I work alone” Albarn, Detective Hewlett wasn’t foolish enough to think that mattered. In England or not, Niccals’ presence was there.

As messy and complicated as ever.

The connections that motherfucker had, Jamie should be able to walk into any club and be pointed the man’s direction. Funnily enough, everyone was so tied in with thin invisible ropes it was near impossible for someone to know something they didn’t need to. God knows how he managed that.  

Due to the very undesirable and complicated nature that aired around, when an officer in the South mentioned he heard the name mentioned, the Detective answered his phone and was able to be present in the follow-up.

After some… not so legal questioning, Jamie was told to meet with a Harbourmaster in Plymouth, which is where “Niccals” was linked to last. There was more information provided about two immigrants coming in from America, one of them originally from Japan and if the Detective wasn’t so self-centred on his case, he would have directed the information to these more adapt to handle it. However, if he was to do that, he might lose his lead.

Besides, what’s more important? Two immigrants wandering around, or catching the monster that not only puts fear in the fucking Krays, but is almost defiantly the serial killer that’s been hunting the country for the best part a decade? No, Jamie will report the Yankee and Jap after. They can wait.

He brought along PC Alan Martin, a slightly older man than Jamie from the Metropolitan that just happened to be around for the first few inquiries into Niccals. The two built up enough trust for the Detective to keep him around. Alan was actually one of the only people that understood Jamie’s strange view on life, and complemented it well by explaining his superiours words in a less… British manner. It was good for those unaccustomed to the dry wit.

“What are you looking for exactly?” Martin asked as he leads the ways out of the small car park that belonged to the harbour. The September wind fighting them gently.

Hewlett shrugged, not really knowing what they might find out. Anything would be better than nothing, “Well, we don’t have permission to look around, not that we would see anything. But we can ask the guy anything we want.” He was in the act of getting out a new ciggy, the look his partner gave him made the man put pack back in his pocket.

Alan was tight lipped, “Might I suggest you try and not piss him off? People are a lot more compliant when they like the person that’s asking them questions.” The PC respected Jamie a lot, but the young male was a massive fuckwit when it came to social skills, condescending being his default tone and manor. Seeming as he came from Sutton Park, this was possibly the best way of communication. But he was no longer behind the locked gates and high walls, and so his personal walls should come down a little.

With a self-aware giggle, Jamie smiled like an adult Dennis the Menace, “It’s not my fault if people get the wrong idea. Actually-” he lifts his finger up to point at the lower ranked officer, stopping their walk through the dockyard and lowering his voice “-that reminds me. I did have a little look at the local reports on this place. Apparently, this isn’t the first time people have been smuggled in through his imports.”

A look of dread came over PC Martin’s face, “You aren’t going to pull a Brown, are you? Last time someone else tried, it nearly opened a station inquiry.”

The Detective shook his head, “I’m just saying, if he messes us about, we can simply… remind him, that his yard is on the line.”

With a sigh of annoyance, Alan nodded, “Whatever, mate. Just make sure you’re not an ass about it.”

On that note, the pair walked into the office that housed the dockmaster and his crew. Hewlett’s dark grey suit and Martin’s uniform looked very out of place in the sea of light shades the dock workers wore. One of the many men in white showed more interest in the intruders than the rest and stepped out from his place behind the screens and buttons. The two officers shared a look before engaging.

Jamie smiled his friendliest smile, although it was still kind of condescending, “Hello, I’m Detective Inspector Hewlett and this is Police Constable Martin. We called you yesterday about an inquiry we are looking into.”

Nodding his head, the man who the pair determined to be the Harbourmaster motioned for them to follow him back outside the command room. Once the three were outside, and the worker closed the door, he spoke, “I don’t know what you are investigating Detective, but I don’t think I will be able to be much help. Sorry for wasting your time.” As he spoke, he continued down the harbourside, looking out at the sea with his brital hands hanging loose beside him, unphased by the two officials.

They looked at each other, and before Jamie could open his mouth and say something to make the situation worse, Alan spoke up, “We are looking for someone, heard he was down here a day or two ago. Goes by the name Niccals.”

The man spat in disgust, face becoming hard and aggressive, “You think I would have someone like that on my docks? He would turn our clothing red just by looking at them.”

Not expecting such a strong reaction from the Harbourmaster, PC Martin blinked, shifting back and away from the offended man. Detective Hewlett was intrigued, a small smirk playing on his lips. “So, you know why we are looking for him then?”

“Yeah. I know him. Haven’t seen him either. So if that’s all you’re after-“

“-Just because you haven’t seen him, doesn’t mean he wasn’t here.” Hewlett interrupts, smirk still in place, finger up to draw attention to the possibility of the an alternative view, “Perhaps one of your men saw-“

“-No.” The Harbourmaster interrupted back, brittle hand coming up to cut the other off. “Are you suggesting I don’t know who walks through my grounds?”

PC Martin could see the Detective was rubbing the man the wrong way, and held up both his hands in defence, “That’s not what we are suggesting, Sir.” The other two looked at the calm man with the same confused and testing look, only Jamie was finding this somewhat funny. “What Detective Hewlett meant, was there may be someone else here on his behalf. If there is anything or anyone odd to note you or your workers may have noticed, we would like to hear it.”

A huff made the simple request, making it seem like they were asking a lot more then they were. “I don’t know about you London folk,” the Harbourmaster glared at the two with a judgemental look, “But I don’t see many blue haired kids about.” With a look around to make sure no one is listening, he steps forward slightly, lowering his voice, “There was a guy with him, black hair, gold cross around his neck. That’s all I’m able to tell you, but I want that fucker caught as much as the next guy. Bad for business if you don’t know if what ya shipping in involves him or not.”

The new information had Jamie buzzing, but he kept himself professional and tight-lipped, “Thank you very much for your time. You have been very helpful.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” the man replied with a grimace, starting to walk away, “I never spoke to you, yeah.”

“Yeah,” Alan confirmed, and the partners turned away as well, walking back to the car in silence. Once out of the salt wind, they spoke about what they uncovered, “You think they have something to do with him?”

Hewlett already had his notepad out, flicking through the pages, “Not sure. Niccals isn’t an uncommon name. Could just be a coincidence.”

The remark was met with an amused laugh, “But you think it’s him.”

“Yeah, I do. And you know why? Because when have you ever seen someone with blue hair?”

Shrugging, the Police Constable thought for a moment, “I haven’t.”

“Exactly, surely someone with such a notable quality would have been spotted other places, and if he’s in business with the big guy, then he probably has some other background we can dig up.”

“So, you’re saying if we find the kid. We find Niccals?”

“No, I’m saying he’ll be perfect for a role I’ve seen advertised,” Jamie mocked sarcastically, “Yes, Martin, if we find the kid will find Niccals.”

The older man sighed, “We don’t even know if this is connected.”

“I’m willing to take the risk. Not like we have any other leads.” Having looked at his entire notebook and not seen anything on a blue-haired male, Hewlett tutted in frustration, pulling out his packet of cigarettes and placing one in his mouth, “Let’s stop at a phone though, Albarn might actually pick up if he doesn’t know it’s me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alan Martin co-created Tank Girl with Jamie. He wrote when Jamie drew


End file.
